UC-NRLF 


TWO  IN  ITALY 


SEMIRAMIDE 


Frontlspu 


TWO   IN   ITALY 


BY 

\^ 

MAUD   HOWE  v 

AUTHOR  OF  "ROMA  BEATA,"  ETC. 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    FROM    DRAWINGS 
BY 

JOHN   ELLIOTT 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY 
1905 


Copyright,  1905, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY; 


All  rights  reserved 
Published  October,  1905 


THE   UNIVERSITY  PRESS,  CAMBRIDGE,  U.S.A. 


To  J.  E. 

TO    YOU,    BECAUSE    THEY    ARE    YOURS, 
THESE   TRUE   STORIES   OF   ITALY 


CONTEXTS 


L     ASACBAF*       ........... 

IL   THE  Ixx  OF  PAKADBB  .......       25 

HI.    BUOKA  ForrrxA    ...... 

IV.   THE  CAFTELDO       .     . 
V.    SAVOXAXQLA  FKXZKIT  (WHAT  I  HEABD  or 
Hoi)    .......... 

\"L    SATOXAEOLA  FIXXEKIT  (WHAT  I  Ksr^  OF 
HEM)    ........... 

\TL   THE  H£»MTT  OF  PEETRO  Axzizmi 
YIIL   Ix  OLD  POLAXD  .......     241 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

SEMIRAMIDE Frontispiece 

OLYMPIA Page  13 

THE  TIBER «  139 

THE  YAWNING  SHEPHERD "  152 

CAROLINA'S  STREET (<  183 

THE  SINDACO'S  HOUSE "  187 


I 

ANACRAF 


TWO   IN   ITALY 


CHAPTER    Ij;  jj 

ANACRAP*  ,  •  r"A  • , ,  ^°  V-:  I'-, '  • 


FROM   THE   MARINA   GRANDE   TO    "  PARADISE " 

THE  boat  that  landed  us  at  the  Marina 
Grande  was  rowed  by  an  old  gaffer 
and  a  young  boy.  The  fare,  four 
cents  for  each  passenger,  was  accepted  so  po 
litely  that  inevitably  the  tip  which  had  not 
been  asked  was  added.  On  the  quay  a  merry, 
clamorous  crowd  of  girls  and  women  took  pos 
session  of  our  belongings,  a  bandbox,  a  port 
manteau,  a  small  Japanese  straw  telescope,  a 
guitar,  Pan  —  the  nightingale,  from  whom  we 
could  not  bring  ourselves  to  separate  —  and  the 
sketching  kit.  All  these  had  come  with  us 
in  the  railroad  carriage  from  Rome  to  Naples. 
We  have  learned  the  wisdom  of  carrying  many 

3 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

small  pieces  and  keeping  them  under  our  own 
eye.  A  tip  of  ten  cents  to  the  porter,  twenty 
to  the  guard  at  the  station  —  the  thing  is  done, 
and  the  .vexatipn  and  expense  of  having  the 
luggage  weighed  and  paid  for  is  avoided.  Our 
.position  iri .that  island  world  was  fixed  by  the 
women  who  handled  our  packages  so  deftly  ; 
then  and  there  our  places  in  the  social  scale 
were  allotted. 

"  Semiramide !  be  careful  with  the  instru 
ment  !  Accidempoli !  do  you  handle  a  guitar 
as  you  would  a  sack  of  potatoes  ?  Excuse  her, 
my  Signers,  this  is  not  her  work." 

Semiramide,  who  had  been  trying  to  carry 
both  bird-cage  and  guitar,  relinquished  Pan  to 
the  speaker,  Olympia  —  a  gray-haired  beauty 
of  fifty  —  and  turned  liquid,  apologetic  eyes 
upon  us.  I  wondered  what  Semiramide's  work 
was ;  she  was  a  flower- faced  child  of  fifteen, 
with  teeth  like  new-peeled  almonds,  hair  a  sun 
burned  thatch  of  straw  color,  with  an  under 
shade  of  new  cast  bronze. 

"  Where  do  their  Excellencies  wish  to  go  ?  " 
Olympia  demanded. 

4 


ANACRAF 

"  To  the  Paradise." 

"To  Anacrap'?  We  are  of  that  country. 
When  I  saw  the  steamer's  smoke  I  remem 
bered  there  was  fish  to  get  for  the  master's 
supper.  As  long  as  we  must  come  down  to 
the  Marina,  why  not  help  the  strangers  to  land  ? 
But  do  not  mention  it  to  my  master,  he  is  such 
an  original !  There  is  a  good  cabman  —  he  who 
squints  —  the  carriage  with  the  yellow  wheels. 
He  has  a  good  horse,  he  will  take  you  for  two 
francs  to  the  Paradiso." 

"  Do  you  expect  to  get  into  Paradise  at  so 
small  a  cost  ? "  I  asked.  Olympia  threw  back 
her  head,  and,  whether  she  understood  the  joke 
or  not,  laughed  at  it.  Semiramide  only  stared 
at  us  timidly. 

"She  is  your  daughter?"  I  asked.  The 
resemblance  was  strong. 

"  I  cannot  deny  it,  but  she  is  afraid  of  her 
own  shadow.  The  Sisters  have  had  her  since 
she  was  so  high  ;  it  is  time  for  her  to  come  out 
into  the  world  a  little.  She  is  not  so  stupid  as 
you  might  think ;  she  can  use  her  needle  like 


a  nun." 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

When  they  had  tucked  us  and  our  belong 
ings  safely  into  the  cab  and  seen  us  started  on 
our  drive  along  the  winding  carriage-road  which 
leads  from  the  seashore  to  the  upper  plateau 
of  the  rocky  islet,  Semiramide,  Olympia,  and 
the  other  women  took  to  the  short  cut,  the 
way  of  the  seven  hundred  steps,  which  from 
the  time  of  Tiberius  till  the  days  of  Victor 
Emanuel  (when  the  new  road  was  built)  was 
the  only  path  from  the  Marina  Grande  to  Ana- 
crap'.  Our  road  made  a  wide  loop  and  came 
back  far  above  their  heads.  They  looked  up, 
laughing,  at  us,  just  as  they  looked  and  laughed 
at  Burne- Jones  when  he  caught  the  impression 
that  remains  for  our  joy  in  his  "  Golden  Stair." 

That  drive  was  a  spiral  of  delights ;  every 
turn  of  that  corkscrew  road  gave  us  a  finer  and 
wider  view  of  the  sea  and  sky  that  the  poets 
have  sung  from  Theocritus  to  Verlaine  — 
almost  prepared  us  for  the  draught  of  beauty 
awaiting  us  in  the  garden  of  Paradise.  The 
cab  stopped  suddenly ;  my  view  was  obscured 
by  the  guitar  on  the  box,  beside  the  driver. 

"  What  place  is  this  ? "  I  asked. 
6 


ANACRAP 

"  Paradise !  "  The  answer  came  from  the 
other  side  of  the  wall. 

"  You  hear  ? "  said  the  driver,  a  man  of  few 
words. 

"  Paradiso  ! "  The  raucous  cry  was  repeated 
as  we  walked  through  a  gate  in  the  wall  to  the 
garden.  At  the  back  there  was  a  long,  shaded, 
out-of-doors  room,  with  only  one  side  wall,  — 
that  of  the  house.  Under  the  centre  arch  hung 
an  immense  blue  and  orange  macaw  swinging 
in  a  hoop. 

"  Paradiso  ! "  It  was  the  bird's  greeting  and 
farewell  to  coming  and  departing  guests. 

The  best  rooms  were  all  taken  by  a  family  of 
opera  singers — fortunately  for  us — those  rooms 
are  sure  to  have  been  stuffy,  with  upholstered 
furniture,  carpets — pretentious  and  uninterest 
ing.  With  apologies  and  misgivings,  Philippina 
(a  daughter  of  the  house)  led  us  up  an  outside 
stair  to  an  upper  gallery  hanging  over  the 
garden,  from  which  our  rooms  opened.  Silent 
rooms  at  the  top  of  the  house  with  nobody  over 
our  heads,  —  bare,  delicious  rooms,  with  brick 
pavements  and  furniture  of  iron,  painted  white. 

7 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

Dinner  was  served  in  the  garden ;  our  table 
was  an  old  marble  slab  resting  on  the  capital 
of  a  Corinthian  column  from  the  Villa  Jovis 
of  Augustus. 

"  White  or  red  ? "  asked  Philippina,  a  flask 
of  each  in  her  hand.  That  is  always  a  serious 
question ;  we  knew  the  white  wine  of  the  dis 
trict,  which  bears  transportation  and  appears 
on  the  wine  list  of  the  Cafe  di  Roma  ;  the  red 
was  an  unknown  quantity. 

"  Which  do  you  advise  ?  "  Philippina  smiled 
mysteriously,  refusing  to  commit  herself. 
"That  all  depends  on  the  taste.  Some 
Signori  prefer  one,  some  the  other." 

"  Take  the  white  ;  whatever  else  you  drink, 
touch  no  water  unless  you  wish  to  have  ty 
phoid,"  said  a  tall  man  sitting  at  the  next 
table. 

"  So  that  is  the  serpent  in  this  Paradise  ? " 

"You  have  said  it." 

We  had  not  noticed  him  till  he  had  spoken 
—  there  was  so  much  else  to  see  1  In  front  of 
us  the  glories  of  sea,  sky,  and  distant  shore ; 
behind,  the  corridor  hung  with  lobelia,  splendid 

8 


ANACRAP 

bougainvillea,  cape  jessamine,  and  other  rich 
flowering  plants  I  did  not  know.  In  the  midst 
the  gorgeous  macaw,  restless  in  his  hoop, 
greeting  each  new  comer  with  his  shrill 
"  Paradiso ! " 

After  the  spaghetti  with  chicken  livers,  the 
"  mixed  fry "  of  artichokes,  red  mullets,  and 
cuttlefish,  the  braised  beef  and  carrots,  quails 
and  wild  asparagus  salad  were  served.  Our 
neighbor,  who  had  been  silent  since  his  warn 
ing  about  the  water,  spoke  sharply  to  Phi- 
lippina. 

"  What !  you  offer  quails  to  me  ?  What 
ails  you,  figlia  mia  ?  Do  you  mistake  me  for 
one  of  those  accursed  Germans  ? " 

He  spoke  with  such  heat  that  I  suppose  we 
looked  as  much  surprised  as  we  felt. 

"  You  are  strangers,  you  have  still  to  learn 
the  admirable  habits  of  these  islanders.  They 
spread  huge  birding  nets  across  the  mountain. 
This  island  is  the  place  where  the  quail,  flying 
north  from  Africa  to  the  coast  of  Europe  in 
the  spring,  and  flying  south  in  the  autumn, 
alight  to  rest  on  their  long  flight.  They  have 

9 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

yet  to  learn,  poor  things,  that  the  island  is  more 
cruel  than  the  sea ;  they  fly  into  the  nets  and 
are  caught  by  thousands,  kept  in  cages,  and 
fattened  for  the  Roman  market." 

"  As  they  were  in  the  days  of  Lucullus  ? " 
"  Exactly.  We  ought  to  have  gone  a  little 
farther  by  this  time.  To  protect  them,  I 
bought  that  hill-top  "  —  he  pointed  behind  him 
—  "  but  they  get  around  it ;  they  manage  to 
place  their  accursed  birding  nets  so  that  they 
still  catch  their  victims  without  actually  tres 
passing  on  my  land.  Savages  ! " 

I  had  no  stomach  for  my  quail  after  this  and 
pushed  back  my  plate  ;  this  seemed  to  give  him 
satisfaction. 

"  You  are  Americans  —  English  ?  " 
"  Six  of  one  and  half  a  dozen  of  the  other." 
"  Few  tourists  have  the  sense  to  come  here 
at  this  season;  perhaps  you  are  not  tourists?" 
We  turned  the  question. 
"Well,  trippers   or  residents,   it  does  not 
matter  to  me.     I  have  got  one  of  your  people 
up  at  my  house  ;  rather  a  remarkable  man,  not 
long  for  this  world,  though  he  does  not  know 

10 


ANACRAF 

it ;  something  very  queer  with  his  heart.  He 
seems  to  be  without  a  friend  in  the  world  ex 
cept  Olympia  and  Semiramide.  If  you  don't 
mind  meeting  your  kind  on  this  side  of  the 
water,  you  might  come  and  see  him." 

'•  When  shall  we  come  ? " 

"  To-morrow.  Here  is  a  card  ;  you  must 
show  that  to  the  person  who  answers  your 
ring  or  you'll  not  be  let  in." 

"  Will  eleven  o'clock  suit  you  ? " 

"  Perfectly.  Philippina,  give  these  people 
good  coffee  to-morrow  morning.  None  of 
your  chicory  now  —  the  kind  you  keep  for  me. 
Here,  Odin!  Come,  Olaff!"  He  strolled 
out  of  the  garden,  —  of  which  he  seemed  to 
feel  himself  master,  —  followed  by  a  white 
wire-haired  Russian  wolf-hound  and  a  heavy- 
eyed  Great  Dane. 

"  Paradiso  !  "  screamed  the  macaw. 

"  Good-night,  Polly,"  said  the  departing 
guest.  When  he  was  gone  we  looked  at  the 
card.  It  had  no  name,  merely  the  pencilled 
words,  "Admit  the  bearers." 


11 


1 


H|M^H|| 


OLYMPIA 


II 

OLYMPIA 

WE  rang  the  bell  and  waited  in  the  hot  street, 
face  to  face  with  the  blank,  whitewashed  Orien 
tal  wall  that  might  hide  a  palace,  a  prison,  or  a 
lazaretto.  After  the  third  ring,  soft,  padded 
footsteps  were  felt  rather  than  heard ;  we  knew 
that  if  the  gate  were  opened  it  would  be  by 
one  who  wore  the  soccie.  There  was  a  faint 
creak  made  by  the  rusty  hinge  of  an  invisible 
wicket ;  we  had  the  irritating  sensation  of 
being  inspected  from  within.  I  have  not  the 
hearing  of  Henry  the  Fourth  for  nothing;  I 
caught  the  whispered  words,  "  Open,  open, 
child,  it  is  the  strangers  of  the  bird-cage." 

The  bolt  was  shot  back,  the  gate  opened, 
and  Semiramide  greeted  us  with  curtseys  and 
smiles. 

"  Favorisca!  "  (do  me  favor  of  entering). 

Olympia  stood  on  a  ladder,  picking  grapes 
from  the  pergola  which  sheltered  one  end  of 

13 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

the  garden.  A  little,  hacking  cough  sounded 
close  beside  us.  It  came  from  the  shadow  of 
a  large  tree.  We  looked  to  see  our  compa 
triot,  and  found  sitting  on  one  of  the  lower 
branches  of  an  umbrageous  ilex  a  small  gray 
monkey,  holding  under  its  arm  a  furry  white 
rabbit  which  it  seemed  to  be  squeezing  un 
mercifully.  1  stepped  forward  to  interfere  in 
the  rabbit's  behalf,  when  the  stranger  of  last 
night  came  out  of  the  house. 

"  Take  care,  Giulietta's  teeth  are  sharp ; 
she  does  n't  like  strangers,  ladies  in  particular. 
Poor  thing,  her  temper  is  worse  than  ever, 
since  she  took  this  last  cold ;  she  will  not  live 
long." 

"Are  Giulietta  and  the  rabbit  very  friendly?" 
I  asked. 

"  Giulietta,  yes ;  not  the  rabbit.  Giulietta 
suffers  so  with  the  cold,  especially  at  night, 
that  if  it  were  not  for  the  rabbit  she  would 
have  died  long  ago.  She  uses  the  rabbit  like 
a  muff,  and  keeps  herself  warm  by  hugging 
it." 

"  The  rabbit  does  not  object  ?  " 
14 


ANACRAP 

"  I  am  afraid  the  rabbit  does  not  like  it  very 
much,  —  it  is  the  fate  of  the  inferior  animal  to 
be  sacrificed  to  the  superior.  Three  rabbits 
have  died  since  Giulietta  came.  She  does  not 
mean  to  hurt  them,  for  she  realizes  how  im 
portant  they  are  to  her  comfort;  the  trouble 
is,  she  holds  them  too  tight ;  after  a  time,  the 
difficulty  of  drawing  a  long  breath  knocks 
them  out." 

We  asked  for  the  American. 

"He  does  not  appear  till  luncheon,  which  is 
at  twelve.  You  will  stay  and  take  it  with  us. 
Olympia  has  prepared  for  you." 

The  invitation  —  it  was  more  like  a  com 
mand  —  had  a  compelling  urgency.  We  did 
not  hesitate  for  a  moment ;  we  did  not  even 
exchange  a  glance  before  accepting,  for  —  I 
have  not  told  you  —  the  garden  and  the  house 
were,  on  the  whole,  the  best  house  and  the 
best  garden  I  have  ever  seen,  which,  remem 
bering  my  pilgrimages,  is  saying  something. 

Luncheon  was  served  in  a  long,  cool  room, 
with  windows  that  looked  out  through  the 
pergola  to  the  sea,  so  that  between  the  white 

15 


TWO   IN   ITALY  * 

columns  and  the  bay  hung  great,  purple  clus 
ters  of  grapes  and  sun-browned  vine-leaves. 

As  we  entered,  a  large  man  with  a  bald  head 
as  round  as  the  dome  of  St.  Peter's  got  up 
from  a  seat  by  the  window. 

"  Here  are  two  of  your  own  people,  In 
cognito,  come  to  have  luncheon  with  us,"  was 
the  host's  introduction. 

"  The  best  people  in  the  world,"  said  the 
American,  shaking  hands  with  us ;  "  they  are 
even  worthy  of  Olympia's  macaroni." 

Olympia  makes  the  best  "fettude  fatt '  in 
casa  "  in  the  world  ;  a  fresh,  home-made  maca 
roni  fit  for  gods,  for  epicures,  and  for  us.  The 
service  suited  the  place,  Olympia  from  the 
kitchen  door  directing  Semiramide,  whose 
color  came  and  went  deliciously  as  she  offered 
each  dish.  The  dishes  and  goblets  were  of 
uncommon  form  and  material ;  the  vast,  iri 
descent  sea-shells  heaped  with  oranges  and 
purple  figs  were  admirable. 

"  Where  is  the  mongoose  ? "  said  the  Ameri 
can. 

"  The  mongoose,  like  some  others,  dislikes 
16 


ANACRAF 

strangers.  If  you  can  all  be  perfectly  quiet 
for  five  minutes,  perhaps  he  will  come  in,"  said 
the  host,  putting  a  plate  of  food  down  on  the 
floor  behind  his  chair.  We  ate  as  silently  as 
we  could.  Presently  there  was  a  little,  hur 
ried  pitter-patter,  a  pause,  then  another,  and 
by  a  series  of  short,  timid  runs,  the  mongoose 
sidled  into  the  room  and  up  to  its  plate.  It 
ate  daintily,  like  a  cat,  with  furtive,  upward 
glances  at  us.  When  it  had  finished,  after 
nuzzling  its  sharp  little  nose  for  an  instant  in 
the  hand  the  host  held  down  to  it,  the  mon 
goose  slipped  away,  waving  its  pretty  tail. 

It  was  not  till  we  were  having  coffee  in  the 
pergola  that  we  really  got  a  good  look  at  the 
American ;  he  had  sat  in  the  darkest  corner 
of  the  dark  room  and  inspected  us,  as  if  he  did 
not  wish  us  to  see  him  too  well.  Once  in  the 
sunlight,  the  wine  of  the  grape  —  or  of  good- 
fellowship  —  melted  away  all  reserve.  The 
talk  was  as  good  as  the  wine.  If  I  could  have 
bottled  it  and  poured  it  out  for  you  (as  the 
vintage  of  those  purple  grapes  hanging  before 

our  eyes  was  later  poured  out)  I  could  make 

2  17 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

you  a  rare  feast.  Alas !  It  was  of  a  quality 
both  stimulating  and  evanescent.  The  Ameri 
can  was  a  learned  man  —  not  a  pedant.  He 
carried  his  knowledge  lightly ;  offered  it  to 
you  as  if  it  were  a  glass  of  whipped  syllabub, 
always  assuming  that  whatever  he  imparted 
was  equally  well  known  to  you,  —  that  he  was 
merely  reminding  you  of  this  or  that  line  of 
poetry,  fact  of  history,  myth,  tradition.  The 
host  was  not  far  behind  him ;  he  seemed  sur 
prised  at  his  own  communicativeness,  saying 
in  an  undertone  to  the  American,  — 

"  Incognito,  I  have  not  talked  as  I  have 
talked  to-day  six  times  in  my  life." 

Each  of  us  seemed  to  have  dropped  his 
every-day  mask  of  commonplace,  and  with  it 
his  prejudice,  his  curiosity ;  the  first  personal 
note  was  sounded  when  the  American  said  to 
the  host,  — 

"  You  have  never  told  me  what  brought  you 
to  this  island." 

"  You  have  never  asked  me.  My  yacht  was 
wrecked  here.  I  was  forced  to  land.  I  have 
never  found  any  attraction  strong  enough  to 

18 


ANACRAP 

take  me  away.  Since  questions  are  in  order, 
what  brought  you  here  ?  "  He  looked  at  us. 

"  The  sight  of  your  island  ;  as  we  sailed  by 
on  our  way  to  Greece,  we  caught  the  blue  out 
line  against  the  sunrise  sky.  It  drew  us  like  a 
magnet.  Finding  the  steamer  stopped  to  leave 
the  mails,  we  got  off  with  them." 

"  Tell  them,"  said  the  host,  looking  at  the 
American,  "  why  you  came  here."  He  spoke 
in  English  for  the  first  time  ;  we  had  been 
using  the  language  of  the  country. 

"  For  a  variety  of  reasons  ;  I  was  tired  —  " 

"You  said,"  interrupted  the  host,  "that  as 
the  stag  howls  for  cold  water,  so  longed  you 
for  —  for  —  "  He  hesitated. 

"  As  pants  the  hart  for  water-brooks,"  the 
American  gravely  corrected.  "  I  was  in  need 
of  beauty,  of  silence.  I  turned  back  the  pages 
of  the  memory  book,  a  good  many  of  them, 
thirty-five  years  of  them,  till  I  came  to  the 
picture  of  the  island  where  I  had  once  found 
those  things  —  "  He  paused. 

"  That  was  before  the  new  road  was  built  ? " 

"  Before  the  road,  before  steamers,  before 
19 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

many  things, — mere  surface  changes.  I  found, 
as  I  had  left,  the  three  things  by  which  this 
people  has  ruled  the  world,  —  grace,  charm, 
beauty.  I  left  Olympia  on  the  Marina  Grande  ; 
I  found  Semiramide." 

"Tell  them  that  — tell  about  the  first  time 
you  saw  that  good  creature  !  " 

"Olympia  was  offered  to  me  as  a  human 
chattel.  She  was  the  age  of  Semiramide  then. 
I  had  the  money  they  asked  for  her  in  my 
pocket.  I  found  that  she  was  in  love  with  a 
blackamoor  who  dived  for  coppers  when  the 
boats  came  in.  I  put  the  price  they  had 
asked  for  her  into  a  dote  for  her,  and  saw  her 
safely  married  to  the  Moor.  He  was  an  ugly 
fellow,  but  she  liked  him  even  more  than  I 
liked  her,  which  was  saying  something,  as  she 
possessed  the  cardinal  virtues  —  beauty  and 
silence." 

Olympia's  voice  broke  the  ensuing  pause. 

"  What  ?  Head  of  a  cabbage,  you  have  not 
pulled  off  those  vine-leaves  as  I  told  you  ? 
You  allow  the  grapes  to  remain  half  covered, 
when  they  need  all  the  sun  ?  May  you  drink 

20 


ANACRAP 

nothing  but  sour  wine  all  your  life,  you  and 
your  miserable  dead  !  "  Olympia  was  scolding 
the  gardener's  boy. 

"  I  wish  she  possessed  the  gift  of  silence 
now ! "  groaned  the  host. 

"  Could  you  find  it  better  personified  ? " 
Semiramide,  who  had  brought  in  the  liqueurs, 
was  speechlessly  offering  him  the  tray. 

"  Benedictine ;  yes,  the  large  bottle.  To 
Chance ! "  The  American  lifted  his  glass. 
"  We  owe  her  this  meeting,  we  owe  her  every 
thing  worth  having  in  life  ! " 


II 

THE   INN   OF  PARADISE 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  INN  OF  PARADISE 

I 

AT  THE  INN 

THE  opera  singers  had  rehearsed  "  La 
Boheme"  till  after  midnight.  I 
fancy  we  shall  never  listen  again  to 
that  sublime  translation  of  Bohemia  into  music 
without  thinking  of  the  garden  of  Paradise,  of 
ourselves  sitting  among  the  orange-trees,  just 
where  we  could  not  see  into  the  rooms  whose 
windows  and  blinds  were  open.  There  had 
been  a  hot  musical  discussion  at  dinner.  As 
they  all  talked  fortissimo,  none  of  it  had  es 
caped  us.  It  was  the  prima  donna's  birthday. 
They  had,  however,  consumed  less  food,  less 
wine,  fewer  cigarettes  than  usual.  They  gen 
erally  sang  in  the  morning  when  we  were  out 
sketching;  to-day  there  had  been  an  excur 
sion;  the  music  that  had  been  bottled  up  all 

25 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

day  was  bubbling  in  their  throats.  The  so 
prano  hummed  snatches  from  her  aria  in  the 
restaurant  scene ;  her  husband,  a  basso  pro- 
fundo,  rumbled  out  shakes  and  flurries  of 
Coline's  song  like  deepest  organ  notes  with  the 
tremolo  stop  on.  At  last  they  got  to  work. 
Oh !  I  shall  hear  "  La  Boheme "  sung  by 
greater  artists,  perhaps,  but  it  will  never  be  the 
same.  For  weeks  we  had  lived  under  the  same 
roof  with  the  singers  —  had  bowed  to  them 
gravely,  morning  and  evening.  We  had  seen 
their  seamy  side ;  they  had  been  sometimes 
cross,  sometimes  boisterous,  always  a  little 
grossolano,  —  untranslatable  phrase  ;  our  near 
est  equivalent  would  be  Big  Hominy.  But 
familiarity  had  not  bred  contempt.  We  liked 
those  singers,  they  were  so  serious  at  their 
work,  so  serious  at  their  play,  —  liked  them, 
though  we  never  spoke  to  them  nor  they 
to  us. 

I  stole  down  to  the  garden  to  get  an  orange, 
—  it  was  too  early  to  hope  for'  coffee.  Pearls 
of  dew  rolled  from  the  glossy  green  leaves 
down  my  sleeves  as  I  picked  the  golden  fruit, 


THE   INN   OF   PARADISE 

cold  with  the  chill  of  night.  The  new-opened 
blossoms,  unearthly  in  their  spotlessness,  looked 
more  artificial  than  real. 

"  Paradiso !  " 

I  turned  to  see  who  could  be  about  at  that 
hour  —  the  macaw,  a  faithful  sentinel,  never 
sounded  a  false  alarm.  Coming  down  the 
outer  stair  was  the  biggest  man  I  have  ever 
seen  out  of  a  show  —  a  man  of  what  sculptors 
call  heroic  size,  dressed  in  long,  sweeping  gar 
ments  of  gray,  his  face  lost  in  a  tangle  of  gray 
hair  and  beard.  The  beard,  long  and  knotted, 
hung  down  on  his  breast ;  the  hair,  tousled 
from  sleep,  stood  up  over  his  forehead  in  two 
horns.  The  sun,  just  above  the  hill-top,  struck 
full  upon  this  astonishing  person,  who  carried 
a  large  something  (it  might  have  been  the 
Tables  of  the  Law)  under  his  left  arm ;  his 
right  hand  held  together  his  trailing  robe.  He 
was  the  Moses  of  Michael  Angelo,  made  flesh 
and  blood  !  I  never  lost  that  first  impression, 
even  when  I  realized  that  the  gray  robe  was  a 
large  dressing-gown  ;  the  Tables  of  the  Law,  a 
gray  crash  towel  and  a  mammoth  sponge  ;  that 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Moses  was  on  his  way  to  the  bath  conveniently 
situated  on  the  ground  floor  of  the  inn. 

Later,  when  we  saw  him  dressed  and  in  his 
right  mind,  he  was  still  a  striking  figure.  With 
age's  ready  garrulity,  he  made  friends  with  us 
over  a  sketch  of  J.'s,  discussing  it  in  odd,  old- 
fashioned  terms  long  since  out  of  date.  He 
had  loved  and  known  something  about  pictures 
back  in  the  days  of  the  1830  school.  Of  later 
art  and  its  blague  he  was  refreshingly  ignorant. 
Where  could  he  have  lived  never  to  have  heard 
of  Whistler  or  Sargent?  In  farthest  Ind  — 
an  attic  of  New  York  —  a  lunatic  asylum  ? 

In  the  garden  of  Paradise  time  is  not; 
days  —  weeks  —  slipped  by  uncounted  ;  the 
summons  to  keep  a  rendezvous  in  Athens  broke 
like  a  horrid  rising  bell  on  a  rosy  dream. 

"  To-morrow  we  go,"  said  J. 

"  Then  I  'm  for  St.  Agnese,  to  sketch  the 
pavement." 

Sitting  at  work  inside  the  church  porch,  I 
heard  Olympia  harrying  her  master's  favorite 
donkey. 

28 


THE   INN   OF  PARADISE 

"  Angk !  devil  of  an  ass,  I  say !  " 

Olympia  had  certainly  overloaded  the  little 
donkey;  his  tiny  hoofs  slipped  helplessly  on 
the  square  blocks  of  lava  stone  with  which  the 
steep  street  was  paved.  Besides  the  huge  pan 
niers  of  grapes  between  which  he  disappeared, 
a  heavy  sack  of  flour  was  laid  on  his  poor  back. 
To  make  him  go  faster,  Olympia  twisted  his 
tail.  The  creature  gave  a  piteous  scream. 
Before  I  could  interfere  came  interference  of 
a  weightier  kind. 

"  Olympia  !  "  The  voice  was  so  terrific  that 
the  peasant,  under  all  her  tan,  turned  visibly 
pale.  It  was  our  host  of  the  villa. 

"Wretched  woman!  Out  of  the  foolish 
kindness  of  my  heart  I  purchased,  because  you 
are  growing  old,  this  faithful  friend  to  carry 
the  burdens  that  belong  by  rights  on  your 
miserable  back.  How  do  you  reward  the  ass 
and  me  ?  By  abusing,  by  torturing,  this  ad 
mirable,  this  long-suffering,  this  dear  donkey ! " 
He  was  paler  than  Olympia  ;  the  hand  he  laid 
upon  the  donkey  shook. 

"Pardon  me,  my  lord;  the  creature  has  an 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

evil,  obstinate  disposition.  Besides,  frankly, 
now,  between  ourselves,  the  animal  is  not  a 
Christian." 

"  Perhaps  not ;  I  had,  however,  hoped  that 
you  were  one." 

Semiramide,  large-eyed  and  silent,  stood  by 
listening. 

"  There  is  no  use  trying  to  teach  a  stupid 
old  woman  like  you  anything  ;  but  for  the 
girl's  sake,  come  with  me." 

The  door  of  the  church  of  St.  Agnese 
stood  open  ;  he  strode  in,  followed  by  the  two 
women.  I  went  on  with  my  sketch. 

"  Look  at  this  beautiful  picture,"  he  began. 
"  You  know  what  it  represents  ;  the  garden 
of  Paradise,  where,  but  for  a  woman  not  half 
so  bad  as  you  yourself,  we  should  all  be  living 
now.  Here  in  this  beautiful  church,  built  to 
do  honor  to  the  holy  Virgin,  they  have  painted 
on  these  tiles  pictures  of  all  the  beasts.  They 
did  not  put  them  on  the  walls  or  on  the  ceil 
ing,  as  is  usual,  knowing  well  the  character 
of  the  people.  They  put  them  here  on  the 
pavement  where  you  cannot  avoid  seeing  them 

30 


THE   INN   OF  PARADISE 

every  time  you  kneel  down  to  hear  mass. 
There  is  the  donkey,  the  animal  you  say  is  not 
a  Christian  ;  he  wears  a  cross  on  his  back  in 
memory  of  Mary,  who  once  rode  with  her  holy 
Child  upon  an  ass.  Behold,  here  is  Giulietta; 
Odin,  the  mongoose ;  all  the  beasts  of  the  field 
and  the  birds  of  the  air  painted  by  a  devout 
artist  hundreds  of  years  ago  to  teach  you  hard 
hearted  men  and  women  of  Anacrap'  to  be  kind 
to  the  animals  !  " 

He  eagerly  pointed  out  the  different  animals. 
Olympia,  watching  the  anger  fade  from  his 
face  as  he  talked,  feigned  deep  interest  in  the 
strange  old  pavement  of  painted  majolica  tiles 
which  covers  the  whole  floor  of  the  church. 
It  represents  an  enormous  tree  of  life,  the 
roots  of  which  reach  the  door,  the  tips  of  the 
branches  growing  up  to  the  altar.  The  larger 
animals  —  true  cow,  elephant,  giraffe,  and  croco 
dile  —  are  placed  in  the  lower  part  near  the 
door  ;  the  birds  and  monkeys  in  the  upper 
branches  near  the  altar. 

"  The  name,  sir,  of  this  strange  beast,  the 
like  of  which  I  do  not  see  in  Anacrap'?1'  asked 

31 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

Semiramide,  pointing  to  the  figure  of  a  uni 
corn.  The  question,  evidently  to  her  a  burn 
ing  one,  was  the  only  word  I  ever  heard  her 
voluntarily  speak. 

"  That  animal,  my  child,  I  have  never  seen. 
It  does  not  live  in  my  country  or  in  yours. 
The  English  make  many  pictures  of  it  "  —  he 
caught  sight  of  me  —  "  ask  that  lady,  she  has 
been  in  England,  she  may  herself  have  ridden 
a  horned  horse." 

Fortunately,  Semiramide's  courage  gave  out; 
I  was  spared  the  question. 

"  You  now  may  go,"  said  the  host.  Girl, 
woman,  and  donkey  vanished.  "  They  are  more 
savage  than  some  naked  heathen  black  I  have 
known.  Poor  people  !  it  is  not  their  fault, 
they  are  so  ignorant  1 " 

"  They  are  very  interesting." 

"  Of  course  they  are.  Aristocrats,  scholars, 
bourgeoisie  —  they  are  the  same  the  world 
over.  To  get  the  real  salt  and  savor  of  a  race, 
go  to  the  peasant.  I  live  among  them  because 
on  the  whole  their  company  is  less  irritating 
than  any  other.  To-day  "  —  he  tugged  at  his 


THE   INN   OF  PARADISE 

blond  beard,  for  a  moment  visibly  embarrassed; 
the  only  time  I  ever  saw  him  when  he  did 
not  control  the  situation,  was  not  lord  of  the 
island,  master  of  all  the  company  —  "  to-day 
is  the  national  holiday  of  my  country  ;  on  this 
one  day  of  all  the  year  I  go  out  to  the  high 
ways  and  byways  to  find  guests,  persons  with 
whom  I  can  sit  at  meat  —  persons  of  breed 
ing."  He  hesitated  ;  then,  with  a  return  of 
arrogance,  "Come,  with  the  gentleman,  your 
companion,  and  bring  your  friend,  he  who 
looks  like  the  Moses  of  Michael  Angelo.  I 
do  not  say  to  dine  ;  that  implies  things  you 
will  not  find.  If,  however,  you  will  be  at  the 
villa  at  dinner-time,  you  will  find  food,  wine, 
tobacco,  and  welcome." 

"  We  shall  not  fail  you  ;  as  to  him  you  call 
our  friend  —  " 

"  I  don't  care  to  know  his  name  or  nation. 
Am  I  curious  ?  Have  I  ever  asked  yours  ? 
You  may  be  Brown,  you  may  be  Smith,  you 
may  be  Robinson,  you  may  be  from  —  Alaska 
—  Australia  —  it  is  enough  for  me  that  you  are 
Anglo-Saxons." 

3  33 


TAYO   IN   ITALY 

"  Bah  !  "  I  interrupted,  "  you  know  us  for 
what  we  are,  as  we  know  you.  Names,  nation 
alities,  which  it  is  your  whimsey  to  ignore,  are 
not  the  essentials  "  (it  was  the  only  way  to 
take  him).  "  This  man,  Moses,  you  may  also 
understand.  We  do  not.  He  spoke  to  us,  as 
you  did,  at  the  Paradiso.  He  shall  have  your 
invitation  ;  he  will  doubtless  accept  it." 

He  did  accept. 


II 

ONE    OF   THE    SEVEN    PERFECT   JEWELS 

STRANGE  old  man !  He  stood  with  us  when 
for  the  last  time  we  rang  the  bell-pull,  —  a 
rose-vine  of  cunningly  wrought  iron  that  hangs 
outside  the  villa  gate.  There  were  changes 
in  the  garden.  The  grapes  had  all  been 
gathered.  They  stood  in  great  wooden  tubs 
bound  with  iron  hoops,  waiting  for  the  white 
feet  of  the  girls  who  tread  the  vintage.  It 
was  mid  October,  —  mid  vintage  ;  the  island 
was  steeped  in  the  blood  of  the  grape  from 
mountain-top  to  shore  ;  the  smell  and  color  of 
it  was  everywhere,  more  intoxicating  than  the 
wine  itself. 

After  dinner  we  adjourned  to  the  garden  as 
before.  The  host  poured  out  a  saucer  of  weak 
coffee,  half  cream  with  three  lumps  of  sugar, 
and  put  it  at  the  foot  of  the  ilex-tree,  saying 
half  apologetically,  "  Giulietta  has  what  she 
calls  her  coffee  with  us." 

35 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Moses  was  as  much  impressed  with  the  villa 
as  we  had  been  on  our  first  visit. 

"  This  is  the  ideal  place  for  a  man  to  lie 
perdu, — for  one  who  wishes  to  forget  the 
world  and  be  forgotten  of  it." 

"  I  find  it  so,"  said  the  American.  "  This 
island  is  one  of  the  gems  of  the  earth.  It  is 
as  beautiful  in  its  way  as  this  jewel,  which  in 
honor  of  your  feast,"  he  bowed  to  the  host, 
"  I  take  pleasure  in  showing  you."  He  drew 
out  of  his  pocket  a  piece  of  yellow  silk  from 
which  he  took  a  prism  and  held  it  in  the  light. 
The  rainbow  colors  fell  across  his  hand  as  he 
turned  the  crystal  from  side  to  side.  We 
gazed  with  fascinated  eyes  at  the  morsel  that 
splintered  the  sunlight  into  the  primal  colors. 

"  One  of  the  seven  perfect  jewels.  It  has 
been  under  my  roof  all  these  weeks  without 
my  knowing  it ! "  said  the  host. 

"That  is  the  finest  stone  you  ever  saw, 
madam,"  said  the  American  ;  "  an  old  Asiatic 
gem ;  none  of  your  passionless,  clear-as-window- 
glass,  drop-of-water  stones  ;  the  fires  of  the 
earth  smoulder  in  its  heart;  its  cutting  is  a 

36 


THE   INN  OF  PARADISE 

lost  art."     He  put  it  in  my  palm,  where,  for 
all  its  fire,  it  lay  cool. 

"  I  did  not  know  a  diamond  could  be  so 
wonderful,"  I  said. 

"  Our  host  has  told  you  no  other  diamond 
is.  I  have  seen  larger  stones.  This  is  the 
perfect  diamond,  the  treasure  it  took  the  earth 
centuries  to  produce." 

At  first  Moses  said  nothing.  He  seemed 
magnetized  by  the  stone  ;  his  eyes  never  left 
it.  When  he  finally  spoke  it  was  in  an  in 
different  tone. 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  fine  stone ;  but  what  diamond 
compares  with  a  ruby  ? " 

A  single  drop  of  pigeon  blood  burned  on  the 
finger  of  his  right  hand,  —  a  long,  thin  hand, 
prehensile,  subtle,  —  a  hand  to  fear. 

"  What,"  said  the  American,  "  will  become 
of  this  gem  when  I  have  finished  with  it  ? 
Unfortunately,  I  cannot  take  it  with  me." 

"  You  have  probably  already  learnt  all  that 
it  can  teach  you,"  said  Moses. 

"  Unfortunately  ?  "  queried  the  host ;  "  for 
tunately,  I  should  say,  for  your  heirs." 

37 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"Heirs?  The  little  I  have  will  go  to 
Olympia  and  Semiramide.  The  girl  has,  the 
old  woman  had,  beyond  all  persons  I  have 
known,  the  supreme  gifts,  beauty  and  silence. 
The  inheritance  will  not  be  enough  to  spoil 
their  lives.  To  leave  them  this  diamond  would 
be  a  crime.  Fancy  the  number  of  lives  it  has 
blighted  since  it  was  dug  from  the  mine." 

"  The  crimes  committed  in  its  name  since  it 
was  freed  from  the  matrix,"  said  the  host. 

"  Appalling  !  It  is  a  very  old  stone  ;  seas  of 
blood  must  have  been  shed  for  it." 

"  Take  it,"  I  said,  putting  the  diamond  into 
the  host's  hand. 

"What  would  you  do  with  it  if  it  were 
yours  ? "  asked  the  American,  looking  at  me. 

"  Wear  it." 

"  And  be  murdered  for  it,"  he  scoffed. 
"  What  would  you  do  with  it  ? "  he  looked  at 
the  host. 

"  Sell  it  to  a  museum  where  all  you  col 
lectors  could  enjoy  it ;  sink  the  money  in 
artesian  wells  ;  make  this  isle  of  the  sea  a  gem 
of  as  pure  a  water  as  your  diamond  itself." 

38 


THE   INN   OF  PARADISE 

"  And  you  ? "  The  American  turned  to 
Moses. 

"  I  should  analyze  it  in  the  hope  of  perfect 
ing  my  discovery  of  making  diamonds.  It  can 
be  done,  but  at  great,  at  prohibitory  expense  ; 
the  stones  produced  so  far  have  been  small  and 
valueless.  Perhaps  the  missing  knowledge  is 
buried  in  the  heart  of  that  incomparable  gem." 

The  silence  that  followed,  weighted  by  the 
inexpressible  longing  in  his  voice,  grew  in 
tolerable.  It  was  broken  by  the  American's 
crying  gayly,  — 

"  A  song,  my  host,  a  song  of  your  people." 

The  host  went  to  the  piano  —  it  stood  in  a 
cool  marble  music-room  opening  on  the  pergola 
—  and  sang,  to  a  fantastic  accompaniment,  — 

"  Radabim  bamboola,,  radabim  bagatago,  radabim  bamboola, 
Baltherasco  Schnego.    Schnego  !    Schnego  !    Schnego  !  " 

He  shook  his  great  head,  his  mane  of  hair 
bristled,  his  body  swayed  as  he  dashed  out  the 
chords  of  the  accompaniment  with  a  power,  a 
witchery,  impossible  to  withstand.  The  song 
had  several  verses.  At  the  second  we  were  all 

39 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

on  our  feet,  gathered  around  him,  repeating 
with  him  the  refrain  —  half-way  between  a 
roar  and  a  sneeze  —  "  Schnego !  Schnego  ! 
Schnego  ! " 

"  That  was  a  great  song,"  I  said. 

"  The  greatest  in  the  world  ;  let's  have  it 
again."  He  sat  down  at  the  piano  a  second 
time. 

Now,  if  you  can  discover  the  language  of  that 
song,  you  will  know,  perhaps,  from  what  coun 
try  our  host  hailed,  more  than  we  ever  knew. 

"  Who  has  the  diamond  ? "  It  seemed  to 
me  that  the  words  only  were  mine,  not  the 
impulse  to  pronounce  them. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence ;  nobody 
spoke. 

"  Did  I  not  give  it  to  you  ? "  I  said  to  the 
host. 

"  You  did  ;  but  what  I  have  done  with  it  is 
more  than  I  can  tell." 

"  It  will  turn  up  all  right,"  said  the  American. 

"  We  must  find  it  now,"  the  host  insisted. 

"  It  has  slipped  into  the  folds  of  your  dress, 
perhaps,  or  it  may  have  worked  its  way  into 

40 


THE   INN   OF  PARADISE 

the  garments   of  one  of  us  men.     We  must 
search  each  other,"  said  Moses. 

I  had  quite  forgotten  his  existence.  At  the 
words  we  all  turned  and  looked  at  him  as  if  he 
had  only  at  that  moment  joined  us.  I  was 
frantically  feeling  in  my  pocket,  my  dress. 
The  host,  grown  pale,  was  for  turning  every 
thing  in  the  room  upside  down. 

"  We  have  heard  quite  enough  about  the 
diamond,"  said  the  American.  "  I  insist  that 
nothing  more  be  said  or  done  about  it  just  now. 
We  shall  probably  find  it ;  if  not,  my  difficulty 
about  disposing  of  it  after  my  death  is  solved." 

It  was  growing  late.  I  never  passed  a  more 
uncomfortable  quarter  of  an  hour.  It  was  out 
of  the  question  to  go  until  the  diamond  was 
found.  J.  and  our  host  were  undeniably  rest 
less.  I  was  dumb  with  nervousness ;  only 
Moses  and  Incognito  seemed  perfectly  un 
moved.  They  talked  and  they  talked,  about 
everything  on  earth,  in  the  sea,  and  under  the 
earth.  What  had  been  to  me  a  fountain  of 
living  inspiration  became  mere  words,  words, 
words !  Incognito  saw  my  trouble. 

41 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  If  you  friends  are  still  bent  on  leaving  by 
the  early  boat  to-morrow,  we  must  not  keep 
you  up  too  late.  A  parting  glass  to  our  next 
meeting,  eh,  Prince  of  Hosts  ? " 

The  host  clapped  his  hands.  Olympia 
brought  in  a  tray  with  delicate  Venetian 
glasses  and  a  big  fiascone  of  island  wine.  The 
host  lifted  the  fiascone ;  the  American  gently 
pushed  him  aside. 

"  Let  me  fill  the  glasses,"  he  said.  He  was 
rather  slow  about  it,  I  thought.  His  back 
was  turned  towards  the  company :  was  it  my 
fancy,  or  did  a  few  grains  of  white  powder  fall 
from  his  hand  into  the  first  glass  he  filled? 
Finally  he  faced  us  exclaiming,  — 

"  To  your  health,  friends.  Ah  !  it  is  a  great 
wine.  Clarence  was  right.  He  is  not  the  first 
or  last  of  the  race  drowned  in  wine." 

He  offered  the  tray  first  to  Moses,  laying 
a  hand  upon  his  shoulder  to  call  his  atten 
tion. 

"  This  is  your  glass,"  pointing  to  the  first 
glass  he  had  poured  out. 

"No  more  wine;  I  have  already  exceeded — " 
42 


THE   INN   OF  PARADISE 

The  hand  laid  so  lightly  on  the  shoulder 
grew  heavy. 

"  You  cannot  refuse  to  drink  to  our  depart 
ing  guests." 

For  a  quarter  of  a  second  Moses  looked  him 
in  the  eye  ;  then  he  glanced  at  the  host,  strok 
ing  the  big  wolfhound  Olaff ;  at  J.,  alert  and 
tense  ;  at  Olympia,  sitting  in  the  shadow  half 
way  between  the  pergola  and  the  gate,  feeding 
Odin.  Then  he  gave  a  little  shrug  of  the 
shoulders,  made  a  polite  bow,  looked  at  me, 
"  a  votre  sante,  Madame,"  raised  the  glass, 
and  drank  the  wine  at  a  draught. 

I  have  never  been  able  to  recall  the  anecdote 
with  which  the  host  next  entertained  us.  It 
was  very  long,  doubtless  it  was  interesting. 
I  could  only  think  about  that  diamond  — 
how  could  we  go  till  it  was  found  ?  —  and 
watch  the  others.  At  a  point  in  the  story 
Incognito  disagreed  with  the  narrator.  J. 
took  a  hand,  and  the  scrimmage  of  talk  grew 
hot.  Moses  and  I  seemed  to  be  left  out  of  it. 
The  old  man  looked  pale  and  weary,  worse 
than  weary,  positively  ill.  The  shadows  began 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

to  deepen  under  his  cavernous  eyes,  the  sweat 
suddenly  stood  out  upon  his  great  forehead  in 
drops  ;  from  pale  he  turned  green. 

"  The  gentleman  is  suffering,"  I  whispered. 
He  rose  from  his  chair  and  staggered  to  a  sofa. 

"  Go  now,"  said  the  American,  "  and  go 
quickly." 

1  took  my  salts  to  Moses,  made  his  pillow 
comfortable,  and  said,  "  What  can  I  do  for 
you  ? " 

"  Go  ! " 

"  Olympia  will  take  you  to  the  Paradiso,'' 
said  J.  "  I  must  remain  with  our  friend — " 
The  American  whispered  something  in  his  ear. 
Then  I  was  bundled  out  of  the  room  ;  at  the 
gate  J.  joined  me. 

"  What  did  the  American  say  to  you  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  If  he  had  wished  you  to  know,  would  he 
have  whispered  it  ?  "  said  J. 

"  Oh,  the  diamond,  the  diamond  ! "  I  cried. 
"  How  can  you  leave  till  it  is  found  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  will  recover  the  jewel,"  said  J., 
coolly.  That  was  all  I  could  get  out  of  him. 

44 


THE   INN   OF   PARADISE 

When  we  reached  the  Marina  Grande  the 
next  morning,  we  found  Moses  on  the  quay 
before  us,  waiting  for  the  steamer.  The  old 
man  looked  pale.  I  asked  how  he  had  got 
over  the  sudden  attack  which  had  forced  him 
to  spend  the  night  at  the  villa. 

"  It  was  nothing,"  he  said,  "  a  mere  touch 
of  the  sun." 

A  hail  sounded  from  behind ;  the  host  and 
the  American  were  coming  down  the  way  of 
the  seven  hundred  steps  to  see  us  off;  Olympia 
and  Semiramide  followed,  bearing  flagons. 

While  the  host  talked  with  us,  my  dreadful 
ears,  which  have  heard  so  much  that  was  not 
meant  for  them,  caught  a  word  here  and  there 
of  what  Moses  and  Incognito  were  saying. 

"  Why  did  you  suspect  me  ?  "  asked  Moses. 

"  You  were  the  only  person  present  I  could 
suspect." 

"  Bear  no  malice,"  said  Moses. 

"  None  in  the  world,  my  dear  fellow.  If 
you  will  forgive  that  Borgia  trick  we  will  call 
it  quits," 

45 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  How  did  you  ever  think  of  it  ? " 

"  Man  !  How  do  you  suppose  I  ever  got 
that  diamond  myself  ?  " 

"  The  old  story,  eh  ? " 

"Well,  you  know  how  it  is  yourself." 

The  steamer  whistled  —  once,  twice  —  au 
thoritatively.  Olympia  took  the  guitar,  Semi- 
ramide  followed  with  Pan  ;  we  hurried  down 
to  the  small  boat  of  our  friend  the  gaffer. 

"  You  carry  the  essence  of  music  with  you 
in  that  wicker  bird-cage,  as  I  carry  the  rain 
bow  in  my  pocket,"  said  the  American. 

"  You  have  the  diamond  safe  ? " 

"As  safe  as  such  a  thing  ever  is.  The  night 
brought  counsel.  I  would  not  soil  the  hand 
of  any  living  woman  by  laying  in  it  the  finest 
diamond  in  the  world.  In  a  church  of  Rome 
is  a  beautiful  marble  woman.  When  you  hear 
of  a  peerless  gem  set  on  the  peerless  brow  of 
our  Lady  of  San  Agostino,  you  will  know  that 
I  have  looked  my  last  upon  the  sun." 

"  A  bordo,  a  bordo,  Signori !  "  cried  the  old 
gaffer.  We  packed  ourselves  into  his  boat ; 
Moses  got  into  another. 

46 


THE   INN   OF  PARADISE 

"  A  fiascone  of  wine  and  some  figs  from  the 
villa  for  your  breakfast,"  said  the  host.  A  big, 
straw-covered  flask  and  a  flat  woven  basket 
were  put  in  each  boat.  The  gaffer  cast  off, 
the  boy  bent  to  the  oars,  the  boat  shot  out 
from  the  shore.  We  got  ourselves  and  our 
many  packages  (there  were  some  new  ones,  a 
pile  of  sketches,  and  some  antiquarian  finds) 
on  board  the  steamer  first ;  then  Moses  came 
heavily  up  the  gangway. 

"  Signore,"  said  the  petty  officer  who  helped 
the  old  man  on  deck,  "  have  you  not  forgotten 
something  ?  I  see  a  basket,  ajiascone." 

"  Let  them  go,"  said  Moses  ;  "  I  have  had 
enough  of  the  island  wine  !  " 

We  watched  the  white  walls  of  the  villa  till 
they  blurred  into  the  white  clouds  of  the  bluest 
sky  in  the  world.  At  the  angle  of  the  walls, 
where  the  sandstone  sphinx  from  Egypt  looks 
seaward,  a  flag  was  suddenly  run  up.  The 
host  was  giving  us  a  parting  salute.  Our 
glasses  were  packed  ;  at  that  distance  we  could 
not  see  to  what  nation  the  flag  belonged. 


Ill 

BUONA  FORTUNA 


CHAPTER  III 

BUONA  FORTUNA 

I 

V 

THE   VILLINO 

THE  only  answer  to  our  ring  was  a 
furious  barking  of  many  dogs. 
«  Not  up  yet,"  said  Patsy.    "  What 
lazy  people ! " 

"  Chi  e  la  ?  "  (who  is  there)  came  from  the 
other  side  of  the  heavy  door  in  the  villa  wall. 

"  Amid  !  "  cried  Patsy.  "  Is  that  you,  Signor- 
ina  ?  Are  we  too  early  ? " 

"  No,  no ;  only  have  patience  while  I  call 
my  brother  to  shut  up  the  dogs.  Attilio  ! 
Attilio ! " 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  dogs,"  I  said. 

"  You  must  be  afraid  of  these  dogs,"  Patsy 

insisted.     "  The  poor  brutes  are   kept  savage 

purposely.     Nobody  is  allowed  to  make  friends 

with  them ;  they  are  chained  up  all  day  like 

51 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

wild  beasts,  fed  on  raw  meat,  and  let  out  at 
night  to  roam  the  garden  and  protect  the 
house ;  this  is  supposed  to  make  them  better 
watch  dogs.  Only  Vittoria  or  Attilio  dares 
go  near  them  when  they  are  loose." 

After  a  deal  of  whining,  barking,  and 
rattling  of  chains,  the  door  swung  open  and 
Vittoria  welcomed  us  to  the  garden. 

"  Be  not  afraid  of  Bimba  ;  since  the  Signor- 
ino  '  mended '  her  little  one's  leg  she  attacks 
none  who  come  with  him."  A  bullet-headed 
brown  and  white  puppy  slept  on  Vittoria's  arm  ; 
Bimba,  a  lean  pointer  bitch,  fawned  on  Patsy. 

"  Bimba 's  actually  licking  my  hand  ;  the  first 
time  we  met  she  sprang  at  my  throat.  Have 
you  had  coffee  yet  ?  " 

"  I  was  just  preparing  it,  —  if  you  would  not 
mind  having  it  out  of  doors  ?  " 

The  garden  lies  between  the  house  and  the 
studio.  The  breakfast-table  was  laid  under  an 
arbor  of  Marshal  Neil  roses.  The  grounds 
—  small  for  a  Roman  villa  —  are  shut  in  by  a 
high  white  wall.  The  house  is  in  the  Moorish 
style,  with  minarets  and  Alhambra  tiles ;  we 

52 


BUONA  FORTUNA 

seemed  to  be  no  longer  in  Italy,  but  in 
Granada. 

"  You  still  have  that  bad  habit  of  taking 
milk  in  your  coffee  ? "  asked  Attilio.  "  Milk 
is  indigestible;  we  have  none  in  the  house. 
Vittoria  will  prepare  your  coffee  with  a  raw 
egg  beaten  up  in  it.  You  will  like  the  taste 
quite  as  well  as  milk  ;  besides,  it  is  far  better 
for  the  stomach." 

I  remember  the  taste  of  that  cup  of  coffee 
still,  —  it  was  nectar  ;  to  be  sure,  it  was  brewed 
by  a  goddess,  that  may  have  had  something  to 
do  with  it.  Vittoria's  profile  is  like  the  young 
Tiberius  on  the  gold  coin  of  my  Roman  fibula. 

"  Where  is  Don  Manuel  ?  "  asked  Patsy. 

"  In  the  studio,  of  course  ;  been  hard  at  work 
since  daylight ;  must  not  be  disturbed  to-day  ; 
it 's  an  anniversary  !  "  Attilio  nodded  towards 
the  house.  Every  shutter  was  closed  ;  the  only 
sign  of  life  was  the  glimmer  of  the  lamp  on  the 
altar  of  the  chapel,  where  the  casement  was 
ajar.  "  It  is  the  anniversary  of  his  father's 
death,  — a  day  of  mourning,  as  you  see." 

"  How  long  since  Don  Manuel's  father  died  ? " 
53 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

"  More  than  twenty  years."  Attilio  sighed. 
"  Between  ourselves,  brother-in-law  carries  these 
matters  of  sentiment  a  little  too  far.  Fancy  ! 
the  house  will  be  shut  up  like  a  tomb  all  day  ; 
not  a  window  may  be  opened.  Then  we  must 
all  hear  a  long  requiem  mass.  Religion  is  a 
good  thing,  but — with  respect  c  unpo'troppo!  " 

"It  is  unfortunate,"  murmured  Vittoria, 
"  Gemma  has  to  hear  so  many  extra  masses  !  " 
(Gemma,  Don  Manuel's  wife,  is  sister  to  Vit 
toria  and  Attilio.)  "When  our  mother  of 
blessed  memory  died,  Gemma  made  a  vow 
that  she  would  never  again  sit  in  church  ;  she 
always  stands  or  kneels.  I  persuaded  her  to 
sleep  late  this  morning,  to  be  fresh  for  the 
requiem." 

"This  was  an  unfortunate  day  for  us  to 
come  — "  I  began.  They  overwhelmed  me 
with  assurances  that  it  was  not  so. 

"  Will  you  have  nectarines  or  apricots  ? " 
asked  Vittoria  ;  "  both  are  ripe."  On  the  other 
side  of  the  marble  fountain  with  the  gold  fish, 
not  ten  feet  from  where  we  sat,  were  two  trees 
laden  with  fruit. 

54 


BUONA  FORTUNA 

"  Both  for  me,  then,"  said  Patsy,  "  and  one 
of  those  lemons.  Did  you  ever  see  such  a 
fine  one?" 

A  ring  at  the  gate  was  followed  by  a  loud 
double  knock.  "  That's  Roberto  ;  he  's  early," 
said  Attilio. 

"  Roberto,"  Patsy  explained,  "  is  a  cousin, 
—  a  good  fellow,  though  he  is  a  priest." 

"  It  would  be  as  well,  my  friend,"  Attilio 
whispered  to  Patsy,  "  not  to  speak  about  the 
matter  of  the  wine  before  Roberto." 

"  Then  we  '11  be  off,"  said  Patsy.  "  I  came 
to  ask  you  about  sending  a  cask  to  New  York." 

"  Impossible  !  It  would  ruin  that  wine  to 
fortify  it." 

"  1 11  not  have  it  fortified.  I  will  take  the 
risk  of  its  crossing  the  ocean." 

"  The  ocean,  perhaps,  not  the  equator ;  it 
would  be  spoiled  by  the  time  it  reached  New 
York." 

"  Why  should  it  cross  the  equator  ? " 

"  How  can  you  send  a  cask  of  wine  from 
Naples  to  New  York  without  its  crossing  the 
equator  ?  By  way  of  the  north  pole  ?  No, 

55 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

figlio  mio,  it  is  not  possible ;  besides,  I  have 
none  to  spare ;  that 's  why  you  're  not  to 
mention  it  before  Roberto.  He  is  inquisitive, 
and  he  knows  a  good  wine  (between  ourselves, 
quite  as  well  as  you  or  I).  Let  him  get  a  taste 
of  Buona  Fortuna,  —  I  have  told  you  there  is 
a  limited  supply,  —  who  knows  ?  He  might 
insist  on  having  it  at  the  prezzo  discreto  he 
pays  me  for  ordinary  vino  da  pasto" 

"  Which  is  quite  good  enough  for  him," 
Patsy  put  in.  "  Trust  me,  mum 's  the  word." 

"  Our  cousin  Roberto  has  come  to  say  the 
requiem,  Signora ;  will  you  stay  for  it  ? "  Vit- 
toria  gravely  invited. 

It  seemed  better  to  go,  hard  as  it  was  to 
drive  back  to  Rome  when  we  had  meant  to 
spend  the  morning  at  the  villino  ;  still,  our  visit 
was  evidently  ill  timed,  so  we  began  to  take 
leave,  —  a  long  business.  Attilio  cut  a  market 
basket  full  of  roses  for  us ;  Vittoria  added  six 
fresh  eggs  from  her  own  black  Spanish  hens. 
When  I  think  of  the  brother  and  sister,  it  is  as 
they  were  that  morning,  gathering  fruit  and 
flowers  in  the  villino  garden,  creatures  of  an- 

56 


BUONA  FORTUNA 

other  world,  estrays  from  the  Golden  Age.  In 
the  city  Attilio  is  dumb,  shy,  awkward ;  on  his 
own  ground  he  is  a  master  of  life.  Tall,  lean, 
brown,  with  kind  blue  eyes,  neatly  cut  mouth 
and  chin  ;  every  wrinkle  of  his  face  is  a  line  of 
laughter,  not  one  of  care.  He  reads  no  news 
papers,  has  no  politics,  no  occupation,  — beyond 
the  care  of  his  vineyard,  —  is  full  of  the  wine 
of  human  geniality,  and  is  held,  by  grave  Don 
Manuel,  Patsy,  and  others,  one  of  the  best  com 
panions  on  earth.  His  man  Belisario  (always 
at  his  heels)  is  curiously  like  him  in  looks 
and  manners ;  the  servant  is  a  coarse  copy 
of  the  master.  Attilio  is  borghese,  Belisario 
contadino. 

Vittoria  —  exquisitely  neat  in  a  short  white 
linen  skirt  and  jacket ;  her  wonderful  dark  hair 
in  heavy  crisp  masses,  parted  and  coiled  low  at 
the  back  of  her  head ;  her  cheeks  the  color 
of  the  nectarines,  her  throat  and  hands  hardly 
paler  than  the  warm  tints  of  the  apricots  —  is  a 
treasure  of  memory ! 

Belisario  went  to  get  our  trap  from  the  cool 
grotto-like  stable  under  the  house.  I  followed 

57 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

with  sugar  for  Pegasus,  Don  Manuel's  chestnut 
stallion.  It  was  so  dark  in  the  stable  that  I 
stumbled  and  almost  fell  over  some  hard 
object  that  did  not  properly  belong  there. 

" Buona fortuna"  (good  luck)  "you  did  not 
hurt  yourself  over  the  garden  roller,  Signora," 
said  Belisario,  picking  me  up.  He  laughed  as 
if  he  had  said  something  funny.  Seeing  I 
was  a  little  vexed  by  his  laughter  over  a  joke 
I  could  not  understand,  he  carefully  brushed 
the  dust  from  my  dress.  Pegasus  whinnied 
and  put  his  pink  velvet  muzzle  into  my 
hand. 

"  Keep  some  sugar  for  the  asinello,  Signora  ; 
he  is  really  a  better  friend  to  us  than  Pegasus, 
he  brings  us  buona  fortuna.  But  go  not  near 
that  devil  mule  ;  it  bites  and  kicks  everybody 
but  the  Signorina  Vittoria.  She  has  a  manner 
with  animals ;  you  should  see  her  charm  the 
lizards." 

The  little  gray  donkey's  stall  was  at  the  far 
end  of  the  gloomy  stable,  close  by  a  heavy 
door  leading  to  the  new  wine-cellar  Attilio  and 
Belisario  had  been  digging  to  store  the  wine 

58 


BUONA  FORTUNA 

from  Attilio's  vineyard  ;  he  supplies  us,  and 
most  of  Don  Manuel's  friends  (we  form  a  little 
cosmopolitan  court  around  the  great  artist  and 
his  lovely  wife,  the  Signora  Gemma).  Attilio, 
too  lazy  to  make  friends  on  his  own  account, 
annexes  Don  Manuel's  ;  they  all  adore  him. 

"  How  are  you  getting  on  with  the  wine- 
cellar  ? "  I  asked  Belisario. 

"  Famously  !  Would  you  like  to  see  it  ? 
Here  is  the  padrone  ;  he  does  not  trust  me  with 
a  key."  At  that  moment  Attilio  and  Patsy 
came  in. 

"  You  wish  to  see  the  new  cellar,  Signora  ? 
But  certainly,  with  pleasure."  He  took  a  key 
from  a  ring  hanging  at  his  belt  and  unlocked 
the  heavy  doors,  throwing  them  wide  open. 
It  was  a  damp,  earthy  cavern,  with  vast 
iron-bound  casks  ranged  in  tiers  against  the 
walls.  At  the  further  end  was  a  low  opening 
leading,  apparently,  to  some  more  distant  cave. 
Near  this  were  several  casks  smaller  than  the 
others ;  they  looked  older  and  more  carefully 
made. 

"  What  wine  is  this  ? "  I  asked. 
59 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

"  That  is  the  wine  of  Buona  Fortuna,  Signora ; 
the  same  I  advised  our  friend  here  not  to  speak 
of  to  Roberto  or  my  other  customers.  The 
supply  is  small.  I  keep  it  for  ourselves,  and  a 
few  others  able  to  appreciate  it.  'T  is  too  good 
a  wine  for  the  first  comer." 

"  How  far  would  it  be  to  drive  back  to  Rome 
by  the  via  delle  Tre  Madonne  ?  "  I  asked  Attilio. 

"  How  far  from  here  to  Rome  ?  "  Patsy  in 
terrupted.  "  Just  two  thousand  years  !  " 


60 


II 


DIVIN'   AMORE 


WE  met  them  coming  back  from  the  festa  of 
the  Madonna  del  Divin  Amore.  Attilio  was 
driving  the  donkey  in  a  small  cart;  Vittoria 
and  Patsy  sat  behind.  She  wore  a  wreath  of 
red  artificial  roses  with  silver  paper  leaves. 
The  donkey  had  bunches  of  carnations  at  his 
ears,  a  garland  of  grape-leaves  round  his  neck  ; 
the  little  cart  was  festive  with  flowers  and 
green  boughs.  I  had  been  with  the  Signora 
Gemma  to  make  a  formal  call  at  the  Spanish 
embassy.  She  wore  her  diamond  earrings  and 
her  new  French  frock.  I  never  saw  her  look 
handsomer  or  more  distinguished.  We  sat  up 
as  straight  as  we  could  in  the  fine  new  victoria. 
Pegasus  was  smartly  groomed,  the  silver- 
mounted  harness  shone.  Belisario  had  on  his 
new  livery,  with  a  yellow  cockade  in  his  high 
hat.  Wagon  and  carriage  stopped,  Pegasus 
whinnied,  the  donkey  heehawed,  Belisario 
winked  (I  am  sure  of  it,  though  his  back  was 

61 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

rigid),  the  Signora  Gemma  flushed,  Vittoria 
turned  pale. 

"  After  what  Manuel  said  last  year,  you  have 
been  again  to  the  festa  of  the  Divin  A  more" 
said  the  Signora  reproachfully. 

"Accipreti!"  cried  Attilio,  " sorella  mia" 
(sister  mine)  "you  take  your  pleasure,  shall  we 
not  take  ours  ? " 

"  What  is  there  against  the  festa  ? "  I  asked. 

"Our  uncle  the  bishop  does  not  like  the 
children  to  go." 

"  Well,  what  can  you  expect  of  a  Carmelite  ? 
Roberto,  now,  has  never  said  anything  against 
our  going,"  argued  Attilio. 

The  bishop  is  a  strict  churchman  and  an  as 
cetic  ;  priests  of  his  stripe  think  the  feast  of 
the  Divine  Love  is  celebrated  with  too  much 
of  this  world's  good  cheer.  Roberto  is  a  lib 
eral  ;  he  accepts,  if  he  does  not  endorse,  the 
popular  festival.  The  bishop  is  over  seventy 
and  thin-blooded  ;  the  priest  is  bel  'uomo,  and 
not  quite  thirty  years  old. 

The  Signora  Gemma  drove  me  home.  Patsy 
went  back  to  the  villino  with  Attilio  and  Vit- 

62 


BUONA  FORTUNA 

toria.  We  did  not  see  him  for  several  days, 
an  unusual  thing  at  that  season.  It  was  mid 
summer  ;  our  house  was  almost  the  last  in  the 
Anglo-American  Colony  still  open.  Patsy 
generally  dropped  in  to  dine  on  the  terrace, 
or  afterwards  to  smoke  his  cigar  and  watch 
Charles's  Wain  wheeling  across  the  sky  from 
the  Castel  Sant'  Angelo  towards  St.  Peter's 
dome. 

"  What  happened  after  you  got  back  to  the 
vittino  that  day  ? "  I  asked. 

"  Great  work  !  Padre  Roberto  came  out 
strong  as  a  peacemaker.  When  peace  was 
proclaimed,  he  and  I  and  Attilio  made  a  night 
of  it.  After  all  he  said  to  me,  Attilio  could 
not  keep  that  wine  (wherever  he  gets  it,  knocks 
me)  from  the  priest.  Yes,  we  made  a  night  of 
it,  —  saving  your  presence,  —  we  were  all  rather 
the  worse  for  wear.  Roberto  was  billed  to  say 
mass  at  five  the  next  morning  —  it  was  the 
anniversary  of  the  day  somebody  belonging  to 
Don  Manuel  had  been  born,  or  married,  or 
died  —  and  he  had  come  out  the  night  before 
to  be  on  hand.  Attilio  brought  out  a  fiascone 

63 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

of  Buona  Fortuna  ;  though  it  seems  light,  it  is 
many  times  as  strong  as  most  wines.  At- 
tilio  did  not  tell  Roberto  this,  and  we  filled 
him  up  in  great  style,  till  he  was  as  happy  as  a 
lord.  It  was  nearly  three  o'clock  when  we 
broke  up.  Attilio  had  me  out  of  bed  again 
before  five,  to  see  how  Roberto  would  say 
mass.  Mind  you,  at  three  Roberto  was  reel 
ing  !  The  Signora  Gemma  was  surprised  to 
see  Attilio  and  me  come  into  the  chapel,  but 
she  looked  as  pleased  as  Punch ;  Don  Manuel 
gave  us  an  approving  glance.  Prompt  to  the 
minute  Roberto  came  up  to  time,  sober  as  a 
judge.  He  went  through  all  his  business  un 
commonly  well,  straight  as  a  soldier.  There 
was  not  a  sign  of  the  grape  about  him.  After 
the  service  Roberto  disappeared  with  a  really 
grand  benediction.  The  Signora  kept  us  talk 
ing  for  a  few  minutes.  When  we  got  round  to 
the  sacristy  the  priest  was  gone  ;  his  robe  lay 
smoothly  folded  on  a  bench,  everything  was 
neat  and  regular.  We  went  to  Attilio's  room  ; 
there  was  Roberto  fast  asleep  and  snoring  in 
the  only  spare  bed  —  my  bed  !  He  slept 

64 


BUONA  FORTUNA 

round  the  clock.  I  have  seen  an  officer 
straighten  up  for  drill,  but  not  like  Roberto; 
it  was  a  miracle.  When  I  talked  with  him 
about  it  the  next  day,  what  do  you  suppose 
he  said  ?  '  The  man  fell  from  grace,  not  the 
priest.' " 

"  Are  you  not  ashamed  of  yourself  ? "  I 
cried.  Alas  !  I  could  get  no  confession  of  sin 
from  Patsy. 

When  I  next  saw  Attilio,  he  had  a  story  to 
tell  about  Patsy. 

"  Perhaps  you  know,  Signora,  the  Signorino 
Pattsi  spent  the  night  of  the  Diviri  A  more  at 
the  villino  ?  " 

"  So  he  told  me." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  how  he  got  a  bed  to  sleep 
in?" 

"  No,  he  said  nothing  of  that." 

"  It  is  to  make  laugh  !  My  quarters  are  in 
the  studio  building  at  the  end  of  the  garden. 
I  have  two  rooms  and  two  beds,  —  one  for  my 
self,  one  for  a  visitor.  I  had  already  invited 
my  cousin  Roberto  to  pass  the  night.  The 
Signorino  stayed  rather  late  and  took  it  into 
5  65 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

his  head  to  sleep  at  the  villino.  I  told  him 
that  it  was  too  late  to  disturb  the  family  in  the 
big  house  and  that  I  had  but  two  beds  in 
my  rooms. 

"  <  Then  Roberto  and  I  will  play  for  that 
spare  bed,'  said  Signorino  Pattsi.  'Roberto, 
which  am  I  thinking  of,  pink  or  blue?' 

" '  You  are  thinking  of  pink,'  said  poor 
Roberto. 

" '  You  are  wrong  there,  caro  mio,'  said  the 
Signorino,  '  I  was  thinking  of  blue.'  And  in 
one  moment  he  was  in  Roberto's  bed,  sound 
asleep  and  snoring.  Questo  giovine  e  motto  " 
(a  mad  fellow,  that  young  man). 


66 


IV 
THE   CASTELLO 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE     CASTELLO 

I 

THE   DREAM 

IF  Prince  Montefiascone  had  not  inter 
preted  the  dream,  we  should  not  have 
had  our  villeggiatura  at  the  Castello. 
After  June,  July  and  August  in  Rome  we 
were  a  little  weary  of  city  life,  —  even  of  life 
in  the  Eternal  City.  The  Prince  made  an 
offer  of  a  large  apartment  in  his  castle  (the 
finest  in  Romagna),  and  J.  quickly  closed  with 
it,  agreeing  to  pay  one  hundred  and  fifty  francs 
a  month.  When  the  Prince's  steward  brought 
the  lease,  J.  noticed  that  it  was  made  out  for 
a  rental  of  only  seventy-five  francs.  He  was 
puzzled  by  this  ;  but  Attilio,  who  managed  the 
affair,  said  it  was  all  right,  so  J.  signed  for 
seventy-five,  and  paid  one  hundred  and  fifty  in 
advance.  It  was  our  first  summer  in  Italy; 

69 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

we  knew  less  of  such  matters  than  we  know 
now. 

"Explain  why  the  steward  made  me  sign 
for  half  the  amount  I  pay,  if  he  does  not 
pocket  the  difference  ? "  J.  demanded. 

"  Ma  che ! "  Attilio  protested,  "  how  can 
you  be  so  suspicious?  The  man  is  perfectly 
honest,  devoted  to  the  Prince's  interests.  The 
paper  you  signed  is  to  show  the  tax-collector, 
don't  you  see?  They  will  only  have  to  pay 
half  the  tax  on  that  rent." 

"  Does  the  Prince  approve  ? " 

"  The  Prince  probably  knows  nothing  of  it ; 
he  is  always  busy  writing  poetry  and  playing 
the  piano." 

We  were  all  packed  and  ready  to  go  next 
day,  when  I  "rode  that  dreadful  gallop  on  the 
nightmare.  In  my  dream  we  arrived  at  the 
flint-stone  castle  by  the  lake  (it  has  five  towers), 
crossed  the  bridge  over  the  moat,  passed 
through  the  low  entrance,  the  square  cortile, 
up  the  outer  stair  to  our  apartment,  just  as  we 
had  done  the  day  we  went  to  look  at  the  place. 
There  was  only  one  difference :  in  the  vast 

70 


THE   CASTELLO 

salon,  barely  furnished  with  a  few  cinque  cento 
chairs,  settles,  and  cassoni,  stood  two  high 
black  hearses  or  catafalques,  with  mourning 
hangings  and  sable  ostrich  plumes  drooping 
from  four  funeral  urns  ;  they  were  not  there  on 
our  first  visit.  I  woke  cold  with  fright,  con 
vinced  the  dream  was  a  warning  that  we 
should  meet  our  deaths  at  the  Castello. 
While  the  spell  of  the  dream  was  still  upon 
me,  a  card  was  brought  in. 

"  Prince  Montefiascone  has  called,  "  said  J., 
and  went  to  meet  him.  The  Prince's  manners 
were  beautiful ;  so  were  his  eyes,  large  and 
pleading,  like  a  stricken  stag's.  He  looked  a 
creature  all  nerves  and  spirit,  so  gentle  and 
simpatico  that  before  I  knew  it  I  had  told 
him  my  dream,  and  my  fear  of  the  Castello. 

"  A  strange  dream  indeed,  Signora ;  could 
it  have  anything  to  do  with  the  discovery  of 
the  oubliette,  I  wonder  ?  "  said  the  Prince. 

"  Oubliette,  —where,  when  ?  " 

"  While  we  were  making  some  repairs  at  the 
Castello  last  week,  we  came  upon  a  secret 
vault  under  a  trap-door  in  your  tower,  and  I 

71 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

am  sorry  to  say  found  in  it  the  skeletons  of 
many  unfortunate  people  who  had  met  their 
death  there.  I  spoke  to  Padre  Roberto,  the 
village  priest,  and  a  few  nights  after  he  sent 
two  wagons  to  carry  away  the  bones  of  those 
poor  unfortunates,  —  may  they  rest  in  peace  ! 
I  am  glad  the  Padre  had  the  heart  to  bury 
them  in  the  consecrated  earth  brought  back 
from  Palestine  (as  a  penance)  by  the  Monte- 
fiascone  of  the  third  crusade." 

"  Do  you  suppose  the  penance  was  for  mur 
dering  the  poor  people  ?  Those  two  wagons 
were  my  two  catafalques ;  now  I  shall  not  be 
afraid  to  go  to  the  Castello  ! " 

We  took  possession  of  our  apartment  that 
afternoon.  We  had  not  been  there  an  hour 
when  Belisario  drove  up  with  donkey  and 
donkey  cart,  bringing  supplies  of  wine,  oil, 
eggs,  butter  and  poultry.  Attilio  had  under 
taken  to  provision  us  during  our  viUeggiatura. 
Later,  Vittoria,  Attilio  and  Patsy  arrived  to 
help  us  establish  ourselves,  —  they  are  the 
kindest  people  in  the  world ! 

My  den  was  in  the  tower,  — just  a  little  circu- 
72 


THE  CASTELLO 

lar  room,  with  a  low  door  giving  upon  a  most 
darling  garden  within  the  castle  wall.  Vittoria 
immediately  set  to  work  tidying  up  the  tiny 
garden.  The  box  border  on  either  side  of  the 
path  had  grown  out  of  all  bounds  ;  it  met  in 
the  middle.  She  had  brought  a  pair  of  shears 
and  set  to  work  to  clip  away  the  branches 
from  the  walk.  Patsy,  pretending  to  help, 
really  hindered  her. 

"  Vittoria,  do  you  remember  how  it  feels  to 
live  inside  a  tree  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  re 
member.  I  never  have  lived  inside  a  tree." 

"  Yes,  you  have !  How  else  should  you 
know  so  much  about  trees  and  weeds  and 
flowers  ?  Belisario  says  you  can  make  any 
thing  grow  ;  you  're  a  dryad  !  " 

She  smiled  at  him  indulgently. 

"  What  is  this  tree  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  Judas  tree,"  said  Vittoria.  "  Do  you 
know  how  it  got  its  name  ?  In  the  Garden  of 
Gethsemane  grew  a  beautiful  tree  covered 
with  white  flowers.  When  Judas  entered  the 
garden  and  betrayed  his  Master  with  a  kiss, 

73 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

the  tree  blushed  for  shame.  It  blushes  still, 
and  will  do  so  till  the  end  of  the  world." 

"It  was  the  goat  told  Vittoria  all  those 
things  that  make  her  so  clever,"  said  Attilio. 

"  What  goat  ?     Tell  us,"  Patsy  exclaimed. 

"An  old  nanny-goat  with  yellow  hair  and 
eyes,  —  that 's  where  Vittoria  got  her  eyes. 
Our  poor  mother  (of  blessed  memory)  died 
when  Vittoria  was  born.  Gemma  was  fifteen 
and  I  was  ten  at  the  time,  so  I  remember  it 
well.  There  being  no  woman  in  the  village 
with  milk  to  spare,  my  father  trained  a  milch 
goat  to  give  suck  to  the  poor  baby.  At  nurs 
ing  time  he  rang  a  bell,  and  good  old  nanny- 
goat  trotted  into  the  house,  found  baby  in 
the  cradle,  and  gave  her  the  teat.  Oh,  yes, 
if  you  had  seen  Vittoria  when  she  was  so 
high,  you  would  have  known  her  for  a  goat's 
weanling.  She  used  to  shake  her  little  head 
and  caper,  like  a  kid.  She  has  it  in  her 
blood.  The  Signorino  is  right ;  she  is  a  wild 
piece." 

Vittoria  on  her  knees  training  a  coral  honey 
suckle  round  a  stone  sun-dial,  a  wisp  of  straw 

74 


THE   CASTELLO 

for  tying  the  vine  in  her  mouth,  only  mur 
mured,  "  stia  zitto  !  "  (be  silent). 

"Why  is  nothing  planted  on  this  side  of  the 
castle?"  I  asked  Attilio.  The  fields  on  the 
right  were  full  of  standing  oats,  tall  flax,  and 
barley  ;  the  land  on  the  left  lay  fallow. 

"  The  Prince  has  so  much  land,"  Attilio  ex 
plained,  "that  he  divides  it  in  five  parts,  and 
plants  each  part  in  turn.  It  is  because  the  land 
is  only  planted  one  year  out  of  five  and  rests  the 
other  four  that  he  always  has  such  fine  crops." 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  of  phosphates,  Attilio? " 
Patsy  asked. 

"What  are  they,  Signora  ?"— Attilio  ap 
pealed  to  me,  —  "a  new  kind  of  grain  ?  " 

"  If  you  were  a  decent  Roman  citizen  you 
would  n't  ask,"  Patsy  derided.  "  You  would  go 
into  the  senate  every  day  and  cry,  'Reclaim 
the  Campagna ! '  like  that  old  bore  Cato  with 
his  6  delenda  est  Carthago.'  Plants  every  five 
years  !  That 's  because  time  is  the  only  '  en- 
richer  '  they  know.  No  hurry  about  things  here, 
is  there  ?  Perhaps  that  's  part  of  the  magic." 

"  It  is  the  magic." 

75 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

A  few  days  after  we  were  comfortably  set 
tled,  the  Prince  moved  into  his  wing  of  the 
Castello.  Patsy,  who  was  staying  with  us  (he 
was  already  the  Prince's  intimate  friend),  took 
a  hand  in  Montefiascone's  removal  from  the 
Roman  palazzo  to  the  Castello,  —  a  simple 
enough  affair.  Two  prehistoric  trunks,  a  bed, 
a  bath-tub,  an  Erard  piano,  some  kitchen  uten 
sils  and  provisions  came  out  from  Rome  in  an 
immense  wagon  drawn  by  four  oxen,  —  proud 
creatures  with  terrible  horns,  angry  eyes  and 
sleek  gray  coats  ;  they  showed  breeding  and 
race  quite  as  much  as  their  owner.  We  were 
all  sitting  in  the  loggia  outside  Montefiascone's 
library,  when  we  heard  the  creak,  creak,  of  the 
heavy  wheels,  the  sighs  of  the  oxen,  as  they 
strained  up  the  steep  flagged  way  leading  to  the 
cortile;  their  broad  breasts  heaved,  they  savagely 
flicked  away  the  flies  with  their  mighty  tails  as 
they  came  to  a  standstill,  lowing  sullenly. 

"  Let 's  come  down  and  help  unload,"  said 
Patsy. 

"  Too  hot,"  the  Prince  objected  ;  "  there  are 
enough  of  them  without  us." 

76 


THE   CASTELLO 

"  Oh,  come  on  ! "  Patsy  was  off  like  a  flash 
of  lightning. 

"  Some  gadfly  stings  him,  eh  ?  He  always 
itches  to  be  doing,"  said  the  Prince.  "  Look  at 
him  lifting  off  that  heavy  cover  they  put  over 
the  cart  to  keep  out  the  dust  of  the  road." 

Patsy  stripped  off  the  cover,  threw  it  on  the 
ground,  began  to  fold  it  up,  stopped,  unrolled 
it,  turned  it  over,  gave  a  long  whistle,  and  sat 
down  suddenly.  After  a  moment,  apparently 
of  stupefaction,  he  roared,  wildly  waving  his 
arms  :  "  Come  down,  come  down  all  of  you  and 
see  what  I  have  found  ! "  We  came  down  the 
long  stairs  slowly  (it  was  still  hot),  and  stood 
beside  him. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Montefiascone. 

Patsy  unrolled  the  cover.  "  Is  this  the  best 
use  you  have  for  your  old  Flemish  tapestries  ? 
I  could  find  a  better,"  he  said. 

66  Where  did  you  get  this  from  ?  "  asked  the 
Prince  of  the  contadino  who  drove  the  oxen. 

"  From  the  loft,  where  such  things  are  kept, 
Excellency." 

"  Have  you  used  it  before  in  this  way  ? " 
77 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  We  always  use  it,  Illustrissimo  ;  there  are 
others,  but  this  is  the  best." 

"  How  many  others  ? " 

"  Four,  six,  ten,  —  how  do  I  know  ?  There 
are  always  enough  to  cover  the  carts  when  we 


move." 


"  Yes,  they  make  good  cart  covers,"  said  the 
Prince,  "  but  I  have  a  fancy  to  use  this  one  in 
another  manner.  Get  a  broom,  sweep  it  care 
fully  ;  when  it  is  clean  bring  it  up  to  the 
library." 

"Do  you  know,"  Patsy  asked,  when  the 
magnificent  old  tapestry  was  spread  out  on  the 
library  floor,  "  what  that  furniture  covering  of 
yours  is  worth  ? " 

"  No,  I  have  not  an  idea." 

"  Five  thousand  scudi  at  the  lowest  figure, 
without  a  stitch  of  repair.  Properly  restored, 
it  will  be  worth  double.  Four,  six,  ten  others 
did  he  say  ?  Man  !  You  have  found  a  fortune 
to-day ! " 

"  You  have  brought  me  the  good  fortune," 
said  the  Prince,  quite  shaken.  He  is  said  to 
be  in  dreadful  straits  for  money, 

78 


THE   CASTELLO 

"Don't  mention  it,"  cried  Patsy;  then  to 
me  in  an  undertone :  "  His  cook  has  n't  come, 
do  ask  him  to  dinner  to-night." 

"  Pray  don't  incommode  yourself,  Signora," 
the  Prince  began  ;  "  my  supper  is  the  simplest 
affair." 

"  Ours  is  n't,"  interrupted  Patsy.  "  Not  to 
night  !  May  n't  we  celebrate  finding  those 
tapestries  ?  Whom  can  we  invite  ?  Let 's  send 
for  Vittoria  and  Attilio."  J.  touched  him 
warningly. 

"  Why  do  you  kick  me  ? "  asked  Patsy  ;  then, 
understanding  :  "  No,  Montefiascone  would  not 
like  to  dine  with  our  wine-merchant  and  his 
sister.  What  a  bore  it  must  be  to  be  an 
aristocrat ! " 

"  An  original,  our  Pattsi,  eh  ?  What  energy ! 
—  I  should  like  to  buy  him,"  murmured  the 
Prince. 

Montefiascone  dined  with  us  ;  he  seemed  as 
much  pleased  with  our  pleasure  in  the  rooms 
that  were  ours  for  a  few  weeks,  and  his  for 
life,  as  Pa  sy  himself. 

"  This  is  the  right  sort  of  dining-room,"  cried 
79 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Patsy.  "  Gothic  roof,  stone  floor,  wax  candles 
in  silver  candlesticks,  roses  in  a  Venetian  glass. 
The  rest  does  n't  matter.  Luxury  is  the  only 
thing  it  is  degrading  to  do  without.  In  your 
family,  Prince,  where  tapestries  are  only  good 
enough  for  cart  covers,  that  is  understood.  I 
know  a  fellow  who  would  like  to  get  hold  of 
those  rags  of  yours  —  he  'd  give  you  any  price 
—  money  is  of  no  object." 

"  Thank  you  kindly,"  said  the  Prince.  I 
have  looked  up  the  matter  in  the  archives,  — 
they  are  kept  out  here  in  the  library.  That 
tapestry  is  one  of  a  set  of  seven  given  to  one 
of  my  ancestors  by  Pope  Sixtus  Fifth.  They 
represent  scenes  from  the  history  of  the  Monte- 
fiasconi ;  it  would  be  a  pity  to  let  them  go  out 
of  the  family,  don't  you  think,  Signora  ? " 

"  How  could  such  things  be  lost  sight  of?  " 
I  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  things,  things  !  There  are  so  many ! 
The  top  story  of  the  palazzo  is  like  a  big  anti 
quarian's  shop.  Nothing  is  ever  given  away  or 
destroyed.  Whenever  we  refurnish,  the  dis 
carded  things  are  carried  upstairs  ;  there  are 

80 


THE   CASTELLO 

pictures,  mirrors,  furniture,  every  fashion  of  the 
last  three  hundred  years.  My  poor  mother  is 
an  invalid,  she  has  only  my  brother  and  me  ; 
neither  of  us  takes  much  interest  in  such 
matters." 

We  learned  later  that  the  Principessa  was 
hopelessly  insane,  that  neither  son  could  re 
member  her  in  any  other  state,  that  they  de 
voted  their  lives  to  caring  for  her,  and  that  one 
or  the  other  was  always  with  her. 

"  What  wine  is  this  ? "  asked  the  Prince, 
looking  at  me. 

"  A  present  from  the  Signorino." 

"  You  like  it  ?  "  Patsy  asked. 

The  Prince  held  his  glass  to  the  light,  smelled 
the  wine,  and  tasted  it  again.  "  It  suits  me 
very  well,"  he  said.  "  You  spoke  of  your  wine- 
merchant  —  " 

"  I  think  well  of  that  wine,  myself,1'  Patsy 
interrupted. 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  where  it  comes 
from  ? " 

"  Not  in  the  least,  my  dear  fellow,  if  I  only 
knew." 

s  81 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  What  is  it  called  ? " 

"  Buona  Fortuna." 

"  Un  vinofamoso  !  The  taste  seems  familiar, 
—  I  could  almost  fancy  I  know  the  vineyard, — 
but  no,  it  is  not  possible  ! " 

66  Have  another  glass  ? "  said  Patsy. 


II 

VINO    VECCHIO 

"  Diamine  !  My  son,  you  should  have  it  if  I 
could  get  it  for  you,"  said  Attilio,  "  but  I  tell 
you,  parola  d"  onore  it  is  finished.  You  have 
had  the  last  gocciatino  of  Buona  Fortuna  you 
will  ever  taste." 

"  What 's  happened  ?  You  can't  wipe  out 
a  vineyard  by  battle,  murder,  or  plague," 
Patsy  objected. 

"  E  vero,  but,  take  my  word  for  it,  you 
have  drained  the  last  glass  that  will  pass  your 
lips." 

"  So  you  said."  Patsy  is  tenacious.  "  If 
the  wine  exists,  I  shall  find  it.  Since  for  you 
*  it  is  finished,'  why  not  tell  me  where  you  got 
it  from  ? " 

Attilio  was  obstinately  silent. 

"  Look  here,  Attilio ;  there 's  some  hocus- 
pocus  about  Buona  Fortuna  ;  there  has  been 
a  mystery  about  it  from  the  first.  Whatever 
it  is,  Belisario  knows.  Now,  as  man  to  man, 

83 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

shall  I  buy  the  secret  of  him,  or  will  you  tell 
me  ? " 

"  Useless  to  spend  good  money  on  that  ugly 
hangman.  If  I  tell  you,  will  you  promise  to 
act  as  if  you  did  not  know  ?  That 's  my 
condition." 

"  Benone,  go  ahead." 

"  One  morning,  while  we  were  at  work  dig 
ging  the  new  wine-cellar  at  the  villino  —  at 
least  Belisario  was  at  work  —  I  had  stepped 
out  to  draw  a  breath,  when  I  heard  him  cry 
out  as  if  something  wonderful  had  happened. 
I  hurried  back  to  the  cellar.  'What  have 
you  found  ? '  I  asked. 

" '  Only  one  of  the  catacombs  of  the  ancient 
Romans,'  said  Belisario.  In  digging  he  had  come 
upon  an  underground  tunnel  high  enough  for  a 
tall  man  to  stand  up  in,  nine  or  ten  feet  wide. 

"  '  There  is  no  catacomb  in  this  part  of  the 
country  that  I  ever  heard  of ;  it  is  a  great  dis 
covery,'  I  said.  '  The  ancients  often  buried 
precious  things  with  their  dead,  who  knows  ? 
We  may  find  a  treasure  of  gold  and  jewels. 
Be  careful  not  to  speak  of  this.'  You,  Signor- 

84 


THE  CASTELLO 

ino,  are  the  first  to  hear  the  tale.  Belisario 
has  not  spoken  for  fear  of  his  precious  skin. 
The  first  thing  was  to  explore  the  catacomb. 
We  decided  it  was  best  for  Belisario  to  go 
alone,  for  me  to  remain  and  guard  the  secret 
in  case  any  one  should  come.  He  took  a 
lantern,  matches,  and  a  ball  of  twine.  I  stood 
at  the  opening  holding  the  clue.  *  In  bocca 
al  lupo  '  (in  the  mouth  of  the  wolf),  I  said  to 
give  him  courage.  Belisario  started.  He  is 
not  afraid  of  man  nor  devil.  1  watched  his 
light  grow  smaller  and  smaller.  Now  and 
again  he  twitched  the  cord ;  one  pull  meant 
6  all  right,'  two,  '  I  have  found  something,' 
three,  '  danger.'  Suddenly  the  light  disap 
peared,  the  rope  twitched  once.  I  knew  that 
Belisario  had  turned  a  corner.  I  waited  a 
long  time  ;  then  I  knew  by  the  feeling  that 
he  was  rolling  up  the  clue  and  returning.  He 
came  back,  his  eyes  big  and  scared. 

"  '  What  have  you  found,  —  any  tombs  ? '  I 
asked. 

"  '  No,'  said  Belisario,  (  no  tombs.  I  do  not 
believe  it  is  a  catacomb ;  it  may  be  only  one 

85 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

of  the  tunnels,  left  by  the  ancients  and  forgot 
ten,  for  getting  out  the  pozzolana  (a  red  earth, 
used  to  mix  with  mortar).  'The  cord  gave  out. 
I  must  take  a  longer  one,  but  not  to-day.' 

"  The  next  morning  Belisario  tried  again, 
taking  a  second  ball  of  twine  in  his  pocket. 
When  he  came  to  the  end  of  the  first,  he 
spliced  the  two,  and  went  twice  as  far  as  the 
day  before  ;  still  he  found  nothing.  The  third 
day  he  took  about  a  mile  of  cord.  After  wait 
ing  a  long  time  the  clue  twitched  twice.  I 
knew  Belisario  had  found  something.  You 
may  be  sure  I  was  in  a  hurry  to  see  that 
sheep's  face  of  his.  He  came  back,  his  eyes 
bigger  than  ever. 

"  '  Padrone  !  '  he  cried,  '  a  miraculous  thing 
has  happened ;  the  passage  ends  as  it  begins, 
—  in  a  wine-cellar  ! ' 

"  '  You  are  mad  or  lying  ! ' 

" '  Come  and  see.  There  is  an  immense 
cellar ;  doubtless  it  belonged  to  one  of  the  Ro 
man  Emperors,  perhaps  to  the  great  Augusto. 
The  casks  are  very  old  ;  there  are  even  some 
amphorae  in  the  more  distant  part.' 

86 


THE   CASTELLO 

"  I  felt  sure  he  was  not  speaking  the  truth ; 
to  prove  it  I  went  back  with  him.  It  was 
just  as  he  had  said :  the  cellar  was  even  bigger, 
—  half  as  large  as  the  crypt  of  St.  Peter's,  — 
and  there  was  wine  enough  for  an  army  of  Aus- 
trians.  After  all  our  fatigue  we  were  natu 
rally  thirsty  ;  we  had  taken  so  much  trouble 
to  find  that  cave,  we  certainly  had  a  right  to 
taste  the  wine ;  we  tapped  a  cask  (it  had  been 
tapped  before;  Belisario  had  helped  himself, 
though  he  swore  he  had  not).  In  that  im 
mense  cavern,  really  a  magnificent  chamber 
with  columns  cut  out  of  the  soft  clay,  I 
drained  my  first  glass  of  that  peerless  wine. 
'  This  is  buona  fortuna,  Belisario,'  I  said  ;  6  far 
better  than  gold  or  jewels,  for  a  cup  of  this 
makes  a  man  feel  as  if  he  owned  all  the  gold 
and  jewels  in  the  world  ! ' 

"  '  Buona  fortuna  indeed  ! '  said  Belisario  ; 
so  the  wine  got  its  name.  '  It  is  a  pity,'  I 
said,  'that  we  cannot  take  back  a  little;  it  is 
doing  nobody  any  good  here.' 

"  ( It  is  a  thousand  pities,'  he  agreed. 

"  *  Wastefulness  is  a  sin  my  cousin  Roberto 
87 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

has  often  warned  us  against ;  it  is  a  pure  waste 
to  let  this  splendid  wine  lie  here  idle,  when 
it  might  be  nourishing  good  men  and  giving 
them  power  to  do  good  works.  It  is  our  duty 
to  stop  this  waste ;  let  us  go  back,  and  get 
some  Jiasconi.'  He  assented.  As  we  came  out 
of  the  darkness,  Belisario  blinking  his  bat's 
eyes  at  the  light,  what  should  we  see  but  the 
garden  roller?  It  has  a  pair  of  iron  shafts 
and  two  pointed  pieces  of  iron  which  hold  the 
stone  roller  in  place. 

"  '  Corpo  di  Baccho  !  9  I  exclaimed  ;  *  that 
roller  is  just  the  size  of  those  casks.'  Belisario 
understood. 

" '  Yes,'  he  said ;  *  we  can  take  out  the  stone 
roller  and  fasten  the  barrel  in  its  place ;  but, 
padrone,  it  will  be  heavy  to  draw,  the  ground 
of  the  tunnel  is  veiy  uneven.' 

" '  Imbecile  !  what  is  that  ass  standing  there 
for  ?  The  wine  will  be  a  lighter  load  than  the 
granite  roller,  too  heavy  for  any  animal  except 
that  preposterous  mule,  a  creature  without 
pride  of  ancestry  or  hope  of  progeny.' 

"  Povero  asinello,  he  was  at  first  frightened, 
88 


THE   CASTELLO 

but  soon  became  accustomed  to  the  darkness. 
We  reached  the  ancient  cave  safely,  stuck  the 
two  sharpened  points  of  the  iron  which  hold 
the  stone,  into  the  ends  of  a  cask,  — it  was  just 
the  right  size.  We  started  ;  the  barrel  turned 
on  its  side,  round  and  round  like  a  wheel ;  in 
this  way  we  dragged  it  to  our  own  cellar.  I 
let  it  stand  a  week  to  allow  the  wine  to  settle, 
then  opened  the  cask.  You  tasted  the  second 
flask,  Signorino.  I  have  shared  fairly  with 
you  for  the  sake  of  your  appreciation  of  fine 
wine." 

"  You  are  too  good ;  I  wish  you  had  n't," 
Patsy  groaned. 

"A nd  your  independence  of  it,"  Attilio 
continued.  "  I  swear  by  all  the  saints  never 
before  knew  I  a  man  who  could  drink  water, 
and  even  milk  —  milk ,  and  keep  health  and 
spirits  as  if  properly  nourished  by  the  wine 
Papa  Baccho  provided  for  us." 

"  Grazie  mille  ;  what  next  ?  " 

"  Niente  !  And  there  was  enough  to  last  us 
all  our  lives.  A  week  ago,  'twas  after  I  sent 
that  supply  to  the  Castello,  we  needed  a  new 

89 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

cask.  Belisario  departed  as  usual  with  the 
asinello  ;  he  comes  back,  his  stupid  face  blank 
as  that  wall.  'What  has  happened  ? '  I  cried  ; 
'  where  is  the  wine  ? ' 

"  '  No  more  Buona  Fortuna  for  us,'  he  said  ; 
*  the  cave  is  bricked  up  ! ' 

"  The  Emperor  Augustus  was  not  the 
owner  ?  "  said  Patsy. 

"  I  erred  in  judgment.  The  owner,  may  he 
die  of  an  apoplexy,  is  evidently  alive." 

"And  has  discovered  the  theft." 

"  Apparently.  It  is  a  great  misfortune  ;  we 
must  accept  it.  As  I  told  you,  it  is  finished." 

"  Finished  ?     You  will  be  had  up  for  theft." 

"  What  a  child  you  are  !  Belisario  worked 
day  and  night,  —  that  fellow  is  a  clever  mura- 
tore,  —  you  would  swear  the  wall  at  our  end 
was  twenty  years  old.  We  burned  the  casks  ; 
where  is  the  evidence  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  I  am  an  accomplice  after  the 
theft." 

"  Understand,  what  a  man  finds  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth  or  the  depths  of  the  ocean 
is  not  like  that  which  is  above  ground ;  it  is 

90 


THE   CASTELLO 

treasure  trove.  The  wine  was  ours,  as  the 
pearls  of  the  sea  are  the  diver's  who  risks  his 
life  for  them." 

"  Whose  cellar  was  it  ?  " 

"  Who  knows  ?  One  who  can  well  afford 
to  lose  a  few  paltry  casks  of  wine." 

"  Give  me  the  points  of  the  compass  and 
the  direction  and  I  will  soon  find  out." 

"  Lascia  andare  !  (leave  things  as  they  are). 
The  owner  was  careless;  it  is  damnable  to 
put  temptation  in  men's  way ;  he  has  but 
himself  to  thank.  If  we  had  only  taken  a  few 
more  casks  ! " 


91 


Ill 

THE   GIFT    OF    SISTO    QUINTO 

"  I  SHOULD  be  only  too  glad  to  have  you  re 
main  another  month  if  you  do  not  mind  being 
here  on  the  fifteenth,"  said  the  Prince. 

"  What  happens  then  ?  "  asked  J. 

"  It  is  the  festa  of  Santa  Sabina  d'  Anticoli. 
Many  people  come  to  the  Castello.  To  reach 
the  chapel,  where  the  miracle  took  place,  they 
pass  up  your  stairs  ;  I  feared  the  noise  might 
disturb  you." 

"  A  saint,  a  crusader,  and  an  oubliette,  — 
what  else  has  he  up  his  sleeve  ? "  murmured 
Patsy. 

"  What  was  the  miracle  ? "  J.  politely  asked. 
.  "  Santa  Sabina  raised  the  head  of  the  house 
from  the  dead." 

"Was  the  saint  a  member  of  his  family  ?  " 

"His  sister .  It  is  all  set  down  in  the  archives. 
Padre  Roberto  can  tell  you  more  than  I.  She 
founded  a  convent  in  Spain,  and  was  canonized 
by  Papa  Sisto  Quinto." 

93 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  Pope  Sixtus  seems  to  have  been  quite  a 
friend  of  the  family,"  said  Patsy. 

"  He  was  undoubtedly  our  greatest  bene 
factor,"  the  Prince  replied,  as  gravely  as  if  the 
benefits  had  been  conferred  yesterday. 

Of  course  we  decided  to  stay.  The  celebra 
tion  began  on  the  vigilia ;  from  the  afternoon 
of  the  fourteenth  till  the  evening  of  the  fif 
teenth,  cortile  and  stair  were  black  with  people 
coming  and  going.  We  met  the  Signora 
Gemma  and  Vittoria  outside  the  chapel  door. 

"  This,  Signora,  is  what  the  box  that  grows 
in  your  garden  is  used  for.  I  hope  I  did  not 
clip  away  too  much,"  said  Vittoria.  "  How 
good  it  smells  !  " 

The  chapel  floor  —  it  was  paved  with  rosso 
antico  and  paonazetto  —  was  strewn  with  twigs 
of  green  box  ;  trodden  under  the  people's  feet, 
it  gave  out  a  delicious  bitter  odor,  that,  mingled 
with  the  incense,  filled  the  Castello. 

"  Will  you  go  down  into  the  confessio  and 
see  the  head  of  Santa  Sabina  ? "  asked  the 
Signora  Gemma. 

"  No,  cara,"  Vittoria  interrupted  ;  "  to  them 
94 


THE   CASTELLO 

it  would  not  be  a  pleasure.  Let  us  look  rather 
at  these  splendid  curtains  ;  who  would  believe 
they  could  be  made  of  straw?"  The  walls 
were  covered  with  curious  hangings  of  warm 
gold  color,  rich  and  beautiful. 

"  They  were  made  in  Spain  by  the  nuns  of 
Santa  Sabina's  convent ;  they  are  oggetti  unici, 
none  others  in  the  world  ;  they  are  three  hun 
dred  years  old,  and  may  be  seen  only  on  this 
one  day  of  all  the  year." 

At  the  head  of  the  stairs  stood  a  vast 
ancient  Roman  porphyry  vase  filled  with  small 
branches  of  olive.  The  Signora  dipped  her 
fingers  in  a  silver  holy-water  vessel,  and  offered 
them  for  us  to  touch.  Vittoria  gave  us  each 
an  olive  branch ;  all  who  came  down  the 
stair  carried  a  spray  of  the  pretty  gray-green 
leaves. 

"  Have  you  called  yet  upon  the  Prince  ? " 
asked  the  Signora. 

"  No  ;  have  you  ?  " 

"  We  are  not  going.  The  chapel  is  open  to 
all  the  world  to-day  ;  only  the  Prince's  friends 
are  expected  to  call  on  him ;  you  should  go. 

95 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

If  you  see  my  cousin  Roberto,  tell  him  we 
are  here." 

We  found  Montefiascone  in  his  library. 
Patsy  had  that  moment  come  in. 

"  Here  you  are  at  last !  "  said  the  Prince. 
"  I  have  looked  for  you ;  they  are  all  gone 
uow,grazie  Deo,  except  Padre  Roberto.  How 
many  visitors,  Padre  ?  " 

"  Half  of  Rome,  it  appears  to  me." 

"  Caro  Pattsi,  how  do  your  tapestries  look  ?  " 

"  I  say  !  are  n't  they  ripping  ?  The  gorgeous 
carved  ceiling,  the  fine  pavement,  and  the  walls 
left  bare  for  this  sort  of  thing.  If  you  ever 
sell  them,  Montefiascone,  I  '11  cut  you." 

"  I  stood  here  to  receive  my  guests,  before 
this  tapestry.  You  recognize  the  subject  ?  " 

"  It 's  the  miracle  !  There  's  your  many  times 
great-grandfather,  there  's  Santa  Sabina,  there 
—  why,  it 's  the  Castello  in  the  background  ; 
I  can  even  make  out  the  five  towers  and  the 
lake." 

"  With  your  permission,  Signora."  The  host 
threw  himself  down  on  the  settle  beside  me. 
"  I  have  stood  since  early  this  morning.  A 

96 


THE   CASTELLO 

glass  of  wine  and  a  bit  of  pizza  ?     Carolina,  per 
carita,  un  bicchiere  di  vino  !  " 

The  old  cook  hobbled  in  with  a  tray  of 
glasses,  a  silver  flagon,  and  a  huge  panettone 
di  Milano. 

"Grazie;  hand  it  to  the  Signorino  and 
to  Padre  Roberto."  The  two  men  looked 
at  the  Prince  as  they  raised  their  glasses. 
"  A  vostra  Eccellenza !  "  said  Padre  Roberto, 
bowing  with  the  splendid  grace  of  the  Italian 
clerico. 

"  Here  's  hoping  —  "  Patsy  began  ;  he  drank 
a  little  wine,  then  set  down  the  glass,  gave  his 
familiar  long  low  whistle  of  surprise,  and  looked 
hard  at  Padre  Roberto  ;  a  spark  of  recognition 
flashed  between  them. 

"  This  is  a  great  wine,"  said  Patsy. 

"Famoso!"  the  priest  agreed,  tasting  it 
again. 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  where  you 
get  it  from,  Prince  ?  "  Patsy  asked. 

"  From  my  vineyard,  —  where   else  ?  "  said 
Montefiascone,  surprised  at  the  question.     To 
him  it  was  as  much  a  matter  of  course  that  a 
7  97 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

man  should  own  his  vineyard  as  that  he  should 
own  his  bed. 

"  Beato  voi  to  possess  such  a  vineyard  !  Do 
you  make  more  wine  than  you  use  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  we  sell  a  small  amount  every 
year." 

"  May  I  become  one  of  your  customers  ? " 

"  Altro  chef  of  course.  I  will  speak  to 
the  steward  about  it.  He  was  complaining 
the  other  day  that  last  year's  vintage  was  the 
smallest  he  had  ever  known,  but  for  you  there 
will  always  be  enough." 

Patsy  held  his  glass  to  the  light,  sighed 
deeply,  then  turned  and  looked  at  the  seven 
splendid  tapestries  of  Papa  Sisto. 

"  After  all,  I  found  the  tapestries  for  you  !  " 
he  said,  as  if  pleading  extenuation  for  some 
hidden  crime  against  his  friend. 

Montefiascone  threw  an  arm  over  Patsy's 
shoulder,  —  but  for  his  cleverness  in  avoiding 
the  embrace  would  have  kissed  him  Latin 
fashion,  on  either  cheek. 

"  I  shall  always  owe  you  a  debt  for  that, 
amico  miof"  said  the  Prince. 

98 


THE   CASTELLO 

Patsy  nodded,  apparently  consoled.  "  It 
was  a  wonderful  piece  of  luck,  —  what  you 
call  buona  fortuna,  was  n't  it  ?  " 

"  Stupendous  ! "  said  Padre  Roberto. 

"  Miraculous  !  "  murmured  the  Prince. 

"Padre,  the  Signora  Gemma  and  Vittoria 
are  here  — "  I  began,  suddenly  remembering 
the  message. 

"  Where  ? "  stormed  Patsy,  putting  down  his 
glass  and  rushing  from  the  library ;  "  you 
might  have  said  so  before ! " 

"  Where  is  he  going  ? "  Montefiascone  asked. 

"  To  Vittoria." 

"  Beato  lui !  "  said  the  Prince. 

Padre  Roberto  sighed,  finished  his  glass  of 
wine  slowly,  and  followed.  At  the  library 
door  he  paused,  looked  back,  and  smiled  kindly 
to  us  all  as  he  said  : 

"  Arrivederci  amid,  e  buona  notte  !  " 


99 


V 
SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

(WHAT  I  HEARD  OF  HIM) 


CHAPTER   V 

SAVONAROLA     FINNERTY 
(WHAT  I  HEARD  OF  HIM) 

I 

OUT   OF   THE    FRYING    PAN 

PATSY  lived  in  the  Via  Flaminia.  He 
had  the  whole  ground  floor  of  an  old 
house  not  far  from  the  Porta  del  Po- 
polo.  There  was  one  large  room  where  he 
worked,  with  a  balcony  at  the  end  where  he 
and  his  brown  and  white  pointer  puppy  slept. 
A  smaller  room  with  a  concrete  floor  served  as 
a  salon.  Here,  on  an  old  cassone,  stood  a 
quarternola  of  the  wine  of  Buona  Fortuna. 
The  salon  opened  upon  an  enclosed  garden, 
one  of  whose  walls  was  covered  with  climbing 
tea-roses,  another  by  a  mass  of  trained  helio 
trope.  At  the  angle  where  the  two  walls  met 
stood  an  ancient  fountain,  green  with  moss, 
water  plants,  and  the  feathery  fern  that  loves 
damp  places  and  is  called  the  hair  of  Venus 

103 


TWO  IN  ITALY 

Patsy's  garden  was  a  pleasant  place  ;  his  salon 
was  accounted  by  the  group  of  artists  and 
literati  who  made  it  their  rendezvous,  "the 
coolest  thing  in  Rome."  Here,  the  day's  work 
over,  Patsy,  Savonarola  Finnerty,  and  Attilio 
sat  discussing  the  scant  midsummer  news  and 
the  merits  of  Buona  Fortuna.  It  was  that 
black  cholera  summer,  when  the  people  died 
like  sheep  in  Naples,  and  all  of  Italy  was 
under  the  ban  of  fear.  There  were  no  tourists 
that  year,  and  few  of  the  foreigners  who  could 
afford  to  get  out  of  Rome  remained  in  the  city. 

"  You  have  heard  about  the  Pope's  mani 
festo  ? "  asked  Finnerty ;  "  he  has  put  by  a 
million  francs  to  be  spent  for  the  sick  if  the 
cholera  comes  to  Rome." 

"Ah,"  sighed  Attilio,  "he  is  a  good  man. 
Perhaps  we  were  better  off  in  the  old  days." 
Though  Attilio  cared  nothing  about  politics, 
he  inclined  to  the  liberal  side.  It  was  one  of 
those  periodical  moments  of  discontent  with 
the  Government,  when  the  economical  asked 
if  the  price  of  liberty  had  not  come  too  high. 

"  That  only  means  they  've  been  down  on  you 
104 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

for  your  taxes,"  said  Patsy.  "  When  I  was  at  the 
station  this  morning  I  saw  the  king's  train  pull 
out.  There  was  a  car-kitchen  filled  with  food, 
pots,  pans,  and  cooks.  Hitched  on  behind  was  a 
great  water- tank  filled  with  Acqua  di  Trcvi" 

66  Where  was  he  going  with  all  that  roba  ?  " 
(stuff). 

"To  Naples  to  meet  King  Cholera!  To 
visit  the  sick  in  the  hospitals.  While  Leo 
waits  —  keeping  back  his  million-franc  trump, 
Umberto  takes  the  trick." 

"  I  would  not  go  to  Naples  now  to  be  made 
Emperor  of  the  world,  "  said  Finnerty.  "  It 's 
tempting  Providence,  even,  to  stay  in  Rome. 
The  French  newspapers  say  the  cholera  's  al 
ready  here." 

"  Only  one  case,  —  a  man  who  came  from 
Naples.  He  was  spotted,  and  isolated  imme 
diately.  The  doctors  say  there  's  no  danger  of 
its  spreading." 

"  Come  to  Venice  with  me,"  urged  Finnerty ; 
"what's  the  use  of  waiting  here,  flattening 
our  noses  against  the  gates  of  the  Protestant 
cemetery  ? " 

105 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  If  you  will  do  as  I  tell  you,"  said  Attilio, 
impressively,  "you  need  have  no  fear  of 
cholera.  Eat  for  your  breakfast  every  morn 
ing  pane  arrosto  ed  aglio  "  (toast  and  garlic). 
"  The  bread  must  be  toasted  very  hard  ;  then 
take  a  clove  of  garlic,  and,  using  the  toast  as  a 
nutmeg-grater,  rub  the  garlic  well  into  it ;  with 
a  little  oil,  pepper,  and  salt,  it 's  not  bad,  I  assure 
you,  a  sort  of  bread  salad.  Drink,  with  this,  a 
little  good  red  wine  that  has  turned  to  vinegar, 
in  a  glass  of  water,  and  you  11  be  quite  safe." 

"  Where  did  you  learn  that  ? "  asked  Patsy. 

"  It 's  a  priest's  trick,  —  a  precaution  against 
contagion.  I  had  it  from  Padre  Roberto." 

"  Even  a  cholera  germ  hates  the  smell  of  gar 
lic  !  I  have  told  Pietro,  if  he  does  n't  give  up 
eating  it  I  '11  discharge  him,"  groaned  Patsy  ; 
"  and  now  you  're  putting  Savo'  up  to  eating 
the  vile  stuff." 

Pietro,  the  jail-bird  who  took  care  of  Patsy's 
apartment,  was  outside  in  the  garden.  He 
looked  up  from  the  remains  of  a  huge  water 
melon  he  was  gobbling  noisily,  and  grinned  at 
the  mention  of  his  name.  He  had  scooped  out 

106 


SAVONAROLA   FINNERTY 

the  seeds  and  filled  the  melon  with  acqua- 
vite.  "  Look  at  him ! "  said  Patsy,  "  and  listen 
to  him.  Pietro,  where  did  that  fine  melon 
come  from  ? " 

"  Oh,  1  got  it,"  Pietro  answered  vaguely. 

"From  the  fruttajuoio  del  Re?"  Pietro 
laughed  and  nodded. 

"  Then  you  stole  it,"  Patsy  accused. 

"  No,  no,  Signorino  ;  am  I  a  thief  ?  I  found 
it,  yes.  You  do  not  believe  ?  Then  go  out 
to  the  Campagna,  beyond  the  Porta  Paulo, 
and  you  will  find  a  mountain  of  them,  and 
many  other  splendid  fruits  and  vegetables 
besides.  But,  magari!  you  cannot  eat  them. 
What  do  you  think  ?  The  guardie  destroyed 
cartloads  of  these  excellent  fruits  this  morning. 
First  they  made  a  pile  of  them,  then  poured 
on  an  abomination  called  quicklime.  I  waited 
till  the  guardie  had  gone,  then  poked  with  a 
stick  into  the  pile  and  found,  at  the  bottom, 
this  admirable  melon,  hardly  contaminated  by 
that  outrageous  stuff.  Is  it  not  a  shame,  I  ask 
you,  when  so  many  are  hungry,  to  destroy  the 
good  fruits  the  blessed  saints  have  sent  us  ?  " 

107 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  What  can  it  mean  ? "  Patsy  exclaimed. 

"The  municipality  seizes  and  destroys  all 
unripe  or  over-ripe  fruit,"  said  Attilio.  "  More 
over,  it  floods  the  market  with  lemons  sold 
at  cost  price.  I  never  remember  them  so 
cheap.  It  is  necessary  for  the  preservation  of 
the  health  through  the  hot  weather  —  especi 
ally  in  a  cholera  season  —  that  the  people 
should  consume  many  lemons." 

"And  in  New  York,"  murmured  Patsy, 
"  we  throw  cartloads  of  peaches  into  the  East 
River  to  keep  up  the  market  price  !  " 

"  There  's  something  to  be  said  for  a  pater 
nal  government,  after  all,"  Finnerty  admitted. 
"What  Attilio  says  about  the  lemons  and 
destroying  the  fruit  decides  me.  I  'm  off  for 
Venice  to-night.  Who  comes  with  me  ? " 

"  But  why  to  Venice  ? "  said  Attilio.  "  The 
people  there  are  perfidious." 

"  Who  comes  with  me  ?     Going,  going  —  " 

"  Beware  of  the  Venetians ! "  Attilio  im 
plored. 

"  Going  —  gone  !  " 

Savonarola  went  alone. 
108 


II 

INTO    THE    FIRE 

IT  was  Finnerty 's  first  season  in  Italy.  His 
knowledge  of  the  language  was  limited.  He 
could  swear  at  cabmen  and  waiters,  he  could 
read  the  bill  of  fare  at  a  restaurant. 

Outside  the  railroad  station  at  Venice  he 
hailed  a  bronzed  gondolier  dressed  in  dark  blue 
flannel  with  a  red  sash.  "  You  're  a  good- 
looking  chap  —  seem  to  have  a  nice  gondola. 
What 's  your  name  ?  Come  se  chiama,  eh  ?  " 

"  Raffredo,  si'or.    Hotel  Daniele,  sir  ? " 

"No  —  too  dear,  troppo  caro.     Lodgings - 
bed  —  sleep/'     Closing  his  eyes,  Finnerty  laid 
his  head  on  his  hand.   "  Then  American  consul." 

"  Va  bene,  si'or,  ho  capito.  Lodgin'  camere 
mobiliate,  poi  al  consolo  Americano." 

"  You  '11  do.  Go  ahead  ! "  Finnerty  leaned 
back  against  the  leather  cushions  of  the  gon 
dola's  black  felze  (cabin),  abandoning  himself 
to  the  joy  of  a  first  row  on  the  Grand  Canal. 
The  swish-swash  of  the  oar,  the  melancholy 

109 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

cries  of  the  gondoliers,  "  Stai  oh  !  sa  premi !  " 
were  music  after  eighteen  hours  of  the  loco 
motive's  screech  and  the  tara-tara  of  the  train 
guard's  horn.  The  changing  color,  the  poetry, 
the  charm  of  Venice  swept  over  him,  a  warm 
wave  of  delight.  He  forgot  the  ugly  fear  of 
cholera  that  had  driven  him  from  Rome  to 
the  opal  city  of  the  lagoons. 

"  What  a  model  that  fellow  would  make ! " 
said  Finnerty.  "  He  has  the  head,  torso, 
arms,  legs  —  everything."  He  made  a  note  in 
his  sketch-book  of  the  gondolier's  pose. 

Though  Raffredo  was  well  acquainted  with 
young  artists  and  their  vagaries  of  dress,  even 
he  was  impressed  by  his  fare's  appearance. 
"  Un  bel  giovine,  ma  molto  originate  "  (a  hand 
some  young  man,  but  very  original),  he  said 
to  his  wife  that  night.  Finnerty's  was  a 
dashing,  brilliant  personality ;  he  was  tall  and 
handsome,  with  a  shock  of  chestnut  curls,  and 
bright  blue  eyes.  He  wore  a  pea-green  cut 
away  coat,  having  two  peculiar  metal  buttons 
at  the  back,  with  trousers  to  match,  made 
from  his  own  design.  Close  fitting  from  waist 

110 


SAVONAROLA   FINNERTY 

to  knee,  below  the  knee  they  became  leggings 
fastened  together  with  hooks  and  eyes.  His 
curious  pointed  shoes  were  of  soft  brown 
leather;  his  hat,  a  black  felt  sombrero,  had 
the  eye  of  a  peacock  feather  tucked  in  the 
band.  Finnerty  was  a  full-blooded  Irishman, 
"  American  born  ;  "  he  had  the  Celtic  temper 
ament  and  the  American  point  of  view. 

At  that  time  the  American  consulate  occu 
pied  the  piano  nobile  of  an  old  Venetian  palace. 
The  windows  gave  on  a  small  triangular  gar 
den,  with  a  balcony  at  the  end  commanding  a 
view  of  the  Grand  Canal  and  the  church  of 
Santa  Maria  della  Salute. 

"  Is  the  consul  at  home  ? "  Finnerty  asked 
the  young  man  he  found  in  the  dingy  office. 

"  He  is  out  of  town.  I  represent  him. 
What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"  The  vice-consul,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Officially,  no  ;  practically,  I  serve  my  uncle 
in  that  capacity." 

"You  can  understand  me — that's  some 
thing.  My  name 's  Savonarola  Finnerty ;  per 
haps  you  Ve  heard  of  me  ? " 

111 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  Pleased  to  ftieet  you,  Mr.  Finnerty.  An 
artist  ?  Travelling  for  pleasure  ?  Delightful 
city  this,  full  of  color  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

"  Any  cholera  here  ? "  asked  Finnerty,  sud 
denly  remembering  his  errand. 

"  Only  four  cases." 

Finnerty  dropped  into  a  chair,  dashed  his 
feathered  hat  to  the  ground,  and  swore  long 
and  furiously.  The  consul's  nephew,  a  tiny 
caricature  of  a  man,  with  fair  hair  parted  in  the 
middle,  put  a  square  monocle  (it  had  a  black 
vulcanite  frame  and  was  attached  to  a  dark 
ribbon)  in  his  left  eye,  and  looked  at  Finnerty. 
The  monocle  was  made  of  plain  glass  and  mag 
nified  nothing  but  the  little  man's  importance. 
He  rose,  glanced  at  himself  in  the  mirror, 
twirled  his  cane,  a  short  malacca  joint  with  a 
silver  knob  at  each  end,  and  threw  open  a  door 
leading  to  the  garden. 

"  Come  outside  —  it 's  cooler  —  and  have  a 
smoke.  My  name 's  de  Ruyter  Ruby,  of  Boise' 
City,  Idaho." 

"  Wish  I  was  there  now  —  wish  I  was  in  any 
other  d —  place  but  this  ! "  wailed  Finnerty. 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

"  Venice  is  not  so  bad ;  you  11  like  it  after 
a  week,"  said  Mr.  Ruby,  soothingly.  There 
were  white  and  purple  stocks,  mignonette,  and 
pink  roses  in  the  consul's  garden.  Finnerty 
strode  restlessly  up  and  down,  stopped  before 
a  blush-rosebush,  mechanically  picked  off  a 
snail  that  was  devouring  a  bud,  pulled  up  a 
weed,  —  it  was  strangling  a  half-opened  lily, 
—  caught  a  spray  of  green  leaves  between  his 
fingers,  rubbed  it  in  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and 
smelt  of  it. 

"  Why,  this  is  mint !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  No !  Real  mint  ?  American  mint  ?  I 
never  knew  it  grew  here,"  said  the  consul's 
nephew. 

Finnerty  looked  at  him  with  the  scorn  of 
one  who  uses  his  eyes  for  one  who  only  sees 
with  them. 

"Real  American  mint;  it  reminds  me  of 
home.  It 's  the  season  for  mint-juleps."  Fin 
nerty  sighed  deeply. 

"I  Ve  not  tasted  a  mint-julep  since  I  left 
Boise  City,  two  years  ago.  I  forget  how 
they're  made,"  said  Mr.  Ruby. 

8  113 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  Pounded  ice,  mint,  sugar,  cognac  —  or 
whatever  liquor  you  prefer.  I  used  to  mix  a 
good  one.'* 

"  There  's  a  bottle  of  Bourbon  inside  - 

"  Cognac  's  better.  '  Fine  champagne,'  or 
'three  stars'  would  do." 

"If  I  had  anybody  to  send — the  boy's 
out  —  " 

"  There 's  the  fellow  with  the  gondola  — 
name  is  RafFredo- 

"  I  '11  send  him  to  the  English  pharmacy  for 
some  brandy.  It  won't  take  him  ten  minutes 
to  get  it.  While  we  're  waiting,  would  you 
like  to  see  the  last  New  York  papers  ?  They 
came  only  this  morning.  I  have  not  had  time 
to  open  the  mail  to-day." 

"  Papers  ?  No,  thank  you.  "Where  do  you 
keep  the  ice  ?  I  '11  begin  by  pounding  it." 

Mr.  Ruby  brought  out  a  block  of  ice,  a 
hammer,  and  a  napkin.  The  next  half-hour 
was  profitably  employed  in  preparing  the 
mint-julep.  When  it  was  ready,  Ruby  and 
Finnerty  seated  themselves  on  either  side  of 
a  table  bearing  a  large  glass  jug  filled  with 

114 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

tinkling  ice,  sprays  of  fragrant  mint,  and  the 
best  "fine  champagne." 

"  You  're  an  artist  at  mixing  drinks,  Mr. 
Finnerty.  This  is  the  best  mint-julep  I  ever 
tasted." 

"  Thank  you.  How  comfortable  this  shaker 
rocking-chair  is  !  I  wish  I  had  one  in  Rome." 

The  soothing  effects  of  the  mint-julep  soon 
showed  themselves :  Finnerty 's  views  bright 
ened  ;  acquaintance  mellowed  into  friendship. 

"  You  like  living  in  Venice,  Mr.  Ruby  ?  " 

"  Well,  —  of  course  there  's  a  lot  of  responsi 
bility  connected  with  my  position,  but  as  a 
first  appointment  I  don't  mind  it,  when  the 
Missis  is  away." 

"  Your  aunt  ? " 

"  My  uncle's  wife.  She  was  a  de  Ruyter  of 
New  York,  an  old  Dutch  family.  When  I 
entered  diplomacy,  I  felt  my  name  was  not 
suited  to  the  career.  Timothy  Ruby  is  n't 
a  name  for  the  diplomatic  circle.  I  dropped 
Timothy  and  added  de  Ruyter  —  de  Ruyter 
Ruby  —  sounds  well,  doesn't  it?" 

"  Oh,  it 's  all  right  —  better  than  mine. 
115 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

What  do  you  think  of  Martin  Luther  Savona 
rola  Finnerty  ? " 

"  It 's  a  shame  !  Parents  ought  n't  to  be 
allowed  to  saddle  a  fellow  with  such  a  name. 
Why  don't  you  change  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  —  my  father  gave  it  to 
me,  so  I  guess  it  will  have  to  do.  I  only  use 
the  Martin  Luther  for  best,  —  on  holidays  and 
Sundays.  I  say  —  what  a  sunset !  " 

In  the  west  the  sun  was  going  down  wrapped 
in  a  glory  of  crimson  and  gold  ;  the  full  moon 
was  rising  in  the  east ;  half  the  world  was  gold, 
half  silver. 

"  The  Queen  of  the  Adriatic  is  doing  her 
prettiest  for  you,  Mr.  Finnerty.  This  is  the 
finest  sunset  I  have  seen  since  I  left  home." 

"  Look  at  that  moon !  I  suppose  the  rea 
son  she 's  so  much  more  beautiful  than  the 
sun  is  that  she  is  of  no  earthly  use,"  said  Fin 
nerty. 

The  mint-julep  in  the  jug  steadily  decreased. 
Some  glimmering  of  discretion  warned  Mr. 
Ruby  that  he  had  had  enough. 

"  Excuse  me,  Finnerty,"  he  said.  "  I  must 
116 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

attend  to  some  important  official  business. 
Make  yourself  at  home." 

When  the  jug  was  quite  empty,  Finnerty 
re-entered  the  office.  The  door  of  an  inner 
room  was  ajar  ;  there,  lying  upon  a  sofa,  he 
saw  the  consul's  representative,  a  newspaper 
spread  over  his  head  to  keep  off  the  flies. 

"Ah,"  sighed  Finnerty,  "in  that  julepous 
condition  I  won't  wake  you.  See  you  later, 
old  chap." 

Forgetting  Raffredo  and  the  gondola  (wait 
ing  for  him  at  the  main  entrance),  Finnerty 
passed  out  of  the  consulate  by  a  side  door  into 
one  of  the  dark  labyrinthine  calli  (side  streets) 
behind  the  palazzo.  He  meandered  happily 
through  the  maze  till,  attracted  by  the  sounds 
of  music,  he  suddenly  turned  from  a  dim  nar 
row  lane  into  the  Piazza  San  Marco.  The 
great  square  was  brilliantly  lighted  and  crowded 
with  people.  Outside  Florian's  Cafe,  gayly 
dressed  ladies  and  splendid  officers  (laced  and 
gold-laced)  were  seated  at  little  tables  con 
suming  ices  and  black  coffee.  A  pretty  Ameri 
can  girl  was  scattering  corn  for  the  pigeons  ; 

117 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

their  white  wings  fluttered  about  her  head ; 
they  alighted  fearlessly  on  her  shoulders  and 
fed  from  her  hands. 

"Venus  and  her  doves,"  murmured  Fin- 
nerty.  He  had  the  sense  to  give  his  fair  com 
patriot  a  wide  berth,  and  made  his  way  to  the 
middle  of  the  Piazza,  where  the  crowd  was 
thickest  round  the  band-stand.  The  musi 
cians  struck  up  a  pot-pourri  of  American  and 
Irish  airs  :  "  Hail  Columbia,"  "  The  Harp  that 
once  through  Tara's  Halls,"  "  Yankee  Doodle," 
"  Marching  through  Georgia,"  "  The  Suwanee 
River."  Finnerty  sang  them  all  under  his 
breath,  keeping  his  eye  on  the  majestic  band 
master  who  marked  the  time.  The  tune 
changed  from  "Home,  Sweet  Home"  to 
"  The  Wearing  of  the  Green."  At  the  slogan 
of  his  race,  passionate  memories  stirred  : 

"  Oh,  Paddy  dear,,  and  did  you  hear  the  news  that 's  going 
round  ? 

They  're  hanging  men  and  women  there  for  wearing  of 
the  green ! " 

sang  Finnerty  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  "  letting 

118 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

out"  whoop  after  whoop  of  the  old  Donny- 
brook  Fair  order. 

"  Erin  go  bragh  !  "  He  cut  a  pigeon- wing, 
danced  a  few  steps  of  an  Irish  jig,  slipped,  fell, 
and  lay  on  the  ground  groaning  with  the  pain 
of  hitting  his  head  against  the  marble  pave 
ment.  At  that  moment  the  medley  ended  with 
a  variation  of  "  Dixie."  In  the  comparative 
silence  that  followed,  Finnerty's  groans  were 
heard,  his  hopeless  efforts  to  get  to  his  feet 
observed.  Then  the  one  ominous  voice  in 
every  crowd  cried,  "  Cholera  !  " 

There  was  a  moment  of  terrified  silence,  —  a 
panic,  a  wild  stampede.  The  musicians  fled,  in 
struments  in  hand  ;  the  trombone  to  the  north, 
French  horn  to  the  south,  hautboy  and  cym 
bals  east  and  west.  Five  minutes  later  Fin- 
nerty  was  alone  in  the  Piazza  with  the  pigeons, 
-the  stars,  and  the  four  golden  horses  that 
guard  the  entrance  to  the  church  of  San 
Marco.  Perfectly  conscious  of  what  was  hap 
pening,  he  lay  as  one  paralyzed,  unable  to 
speak  or  move.  After  a  time  he  heard  foot 
steps.  He  was  lifted  gently  from  the  stones  of 

119 


TWO  IN  ITALY 

Venice  (he  found  them  hard),  placed  in  an 
ambulance  gondola,  and  rowed  away  to  dream 
land.  Later  he  was  conscious  of  being  taken 
from  the  ambulance,  carried  through  a  dark 
passage  to  a  large  room,  and  put  into  a  bed 
so  comfortable  that  he  did  not  trouble  him 
self  to  ask  questions,  but,  turning  on  his  side 
with  a  drowsy  "buona  notte" fell  sound  asleep. 

He  was  waked  by  some  one  gently  placing 
a  clinical  thermometer  in  his  mouth.  He  sat 
up  in  bed,  wider  awake  than  he  had  ever  been 
in  his  life,  and  looked  into  the  eyes  of  a  very 
clean  young  man  dressed  in  white  linen. 

"  What 's  the  meaning  of  this  ? "  cried 
Finnerty." 

"  Un  momenta" 

"  I  want  to  get  up  —  " 

"  Stia  tranquillo  "  (be  quiet),  said  the  young 
man,  firmly  replacing  the  thermometer.  Fin 
nerty  fell  back  on  the  pillow,  moodily  sucking 
the  tube,  while  the  young  doctor,  watch  in 
hand,  felt  his  pulse. 

This  was  not  the  apartment  Raffredo  had 
120 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

shown  him  (Finnerty  had  paid  the  grim  land 
lady  a  week's  rent  in  advance).  It  was  a  large 
bare  room,  smelling  vilely  of  carbolic  acid  ; 
besides  his  own  cot  there  were  four  other  beds, 
occupied  by  four  other  men,  —  sick  men,  — 
very  sick  men,  apparently.  At  the  end  of  five 
minutes  the  doctor  took  out  the  thermometer 
and  read  the  temperature  it  registered. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  Who  are  you  ?  Why  on 
earth  are  you  taking  my  temperature  ? "  Fin 
nerty  demanded. 

"  Zitto !  "  said  the  man  in  white,  laying  a 
finger  on  his  lip.  He  next  applied  a  stetho 
scope  to  Finnerty's  heart,  lungs,  and  abdomen. 
The  examination  complete,  an  older  man,  also 
in  white,  who  had  been  attending  to  the  person 
in  the  next  bed,  joined  them.  There  was  a 
discussion,  with  few  words  and  many  gestures. 

"  Signore,"  said  the  elder  doctor  in  laborious 
English,  "there  has  been  a  mistake.  Last 
night,  according  to  this  record,"  he  pointed  to 
a  chart  at  the  head  of  the  bed,  "you  were 
seized  with  violent  convulsions  in  the  Piazza 
San  Marco.  The  police  'called  us  up/  an 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

ambulance  was  sent,  you  were  brought  to  the 
hospital.  This  morning  I  find  you  apparently 
perfectly  well." 

"  So  I  am.     The  police  are  fools  !  " 

"  A  chi  lo  dice  ?  A  misapprehension,  yes, 
but  how  did  it  happen,  I  ask  you  ? " 

"  I  remember  something  about  it  —  the  fact 
is,  I  was  not  quite  myself." 

"  You  were  drunk  ? " 

"  If  you  choose  to  call  it  that." 

"  What  else,  caro  ragyzzo  ?  "  (dear  boy). 

"  The  police,  imbecili  stupidi,  mistook  ub- 
briachezza  "  (intoxication),  "  for  —  for  illness, 
serious  illness." 

"  Well,  it 's  over  now,  except  for  a  little 
headache." 

"  Not  quite  over.  Ebbene,  get  up  now  and 
dress.  When  you  have  had  breakfast  we  will 
see  what  can  be  done." 

"  Thank  you.  Don't  trouble  yourself  about 
breakfast.  I  shall  be  better  for  a  little  walk 
before  eating  anything." 

"Ah,figlio  mio,  that  is  the  difficulty  !  You 
may  not  take  that  little  walk." 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  This  is  the  cholera  ward.  You  have  been 
exposed  to  infection  —  non  abbia  paura"  (do 
not  fear) ;  "  you  are  in  no  more  danger  than 
ourselves  or  the  nurses." 

The  man  in  the  bed  at  Finnerty's  right  lay 
so  still  that  he  might  be  dead.  His  neighbor 
on  the  other  side  —  a  writhing  figure,  a  tortured 
face  —  moaned  aloud,  — 

"  Acqua,  per  V  amore  della  Madonna,  una 
goccia  d'acquaf"  (for  the  Madonna's  sake,  a 
drop  of  water). 


123 


Ill 

UNDER  THE   BRIDGE    OF    SIGHS 

"  STILL  in  Venice,  Mr.  Finnerty  ?  I  supposed 
you  'd  left,"  exclaimed  de  Ruyter  Ruby.  He 
was  at  work  pasting  clippings  from  the  Venetian 
newspapers  into  a  scrap-book.  "  1 11  be  at 
liberty  directly.  The  press  over  here  say  queer 
things  about  us  over  there." 

"  I  bet  I  can  tell  you  queerer  things.  How 
would  this  sound  ?  '  An  American  citizen 
seized  in  the  public  streets  of  Venice,  put  to 
sleep  in  a  cholera  ward  with  four  cholera 
patients.  Quarantined  for  three  weeks  in  a 
beastly  lazaretto ! ' 

Mr.  Ruby  hastily  edged  away.  "  What  do 
you  mean  ? "  he  cried. 

"  That 's  exactly  what 's  happened  to  me. 
You  need  n't  be  afraid.  I  Ve  been  fumigated 
and  steamed.  I  'm  an  immune." 

"What  a  dreadful  thing!  How  did  it 
occur  ?  " 

Finnerty  told  what  he  could  remember  of 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

his  performance  in  the  Piazza,  San  Marco. 
"  That  mint-julep  came  rather  high,  did  n't  it  ? " 
he  said.  "  I  went  to  my  lodgings  this  morn 
ing.  They  were  let  to  a  German,  a  fat  man 
with  spectacles !  The  landlady  had  ransacked 
my  trunk  and  taken  every  cent  she  found. 
Gave  me  a  receipted  bill  for  the  amount, 
made  me  pay  three  weeks'  rent,  though  I  heard 
she  only  waited  twenty-four  hours  before  re- 
letting  the  rooms.  I  'm  stranded  high  and 
dry,  without  a  dollar.  '  Still  in  Venice  ? ' 
Unless  you  lend  me  money  enough  to  get  back 
to  Rome  I  'm  likely  to  pass  the  rest  of  my 
life  here  at  the  public  charge." 

"  Of  course  you  shall  have  the  money. 
Will  two  hundred  francs  do  ?  I  am  rather 
short  —  " 

"  I  shall  take  the  four  o'clock  train  for  Rome 
—  that  is,  if  there  's  nothing  I  can  do  to  get 
even  with  the  hospital  people  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  see  —  they  were  in  their 
rights,  don't  you  know  ?  You  had  been  ex 
posed  to  infection  —  " 

"  Nor  the  landlady  ?" 
126 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

"  I  can't  advise  trying.  Lawsuits  are  end 
less  things  —  it  would  cost  more  than  it  would 
come  to." 

"  Then  I  'm  off.  Rome  's  comparatively  a 
free  country.  I  '11  send  you  back  the  money 
as  soon  as  I  arrive." 

At  the  railroad  station  a  greasy  interpreter 
pounced  upon  Finnerty. 

"  SaU  I  'elp  you,  sare  ?     Gif  me  ze  bag." 

"No,  thank  you.    I  can  manage  by  myself." 

"  Buy  ze  ticket,  weigh  ze  trunk,  find  ze 
lonely  carriage  ? " 

Finnerty  flung  impatiently  away  from  the 
tormentor.  At  the  ticket-office  he  placed  his 
bag  on  the  floor  for  a  moment ;  the  interpreter 
snatched  it  up. 

"  First-class  ticket  for  Rome,  straight 
through,"  said  Finnerty,  laying  down  one  of 
Ruby's  crisp  new  notes. 

"  Roma,  prima  classe"  the  interpreter  trans 
lated. 

"  That  man  understands  English  as  well  as 
you  do,"  snapped  Finnerty,  counting  his  change 
(it  was  correct)  and  recovering  his  bag.  Next 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

came  the  tiresome  business  of  weighing  his 
trunk  and  paying  for  its  transportation.  He 
tipped  the  porter  and  the  baggage  weigher 
generously.  The  interpreter  took  heart.  The 
game  was  worth  the  stalking.  The  luggage 
clerk  wrote  the  scontrino  (receipt)  and  handed 
it  to  Finnerty,  who  made  out  that  eight  francs 
were  due  on  his  trunk.  He  gave  the  clerk  a  ten- 
franc  bill.  The  official,  after  looking  at  it  care 
fully,  returned  it  with  a  polite  bow. 

"  Questo  non  e  buono,  si'or"  he  said. 

"What?  Not  enough?"  Finnerty  de 
manded. 

It  was  the  interpreter's  moment. 

"  He  say  ze  money  no  good,"  he  explained. 

"  If  it 's  good  enough  for  them  to  give  me, 
it 's  good  enough  for  them  to  take.  Tell  him 
the  man  in  the  ticket-office  gave  me  that  bill." 

The  receipt  and  the  ten-franc  bill  became 
the  storm  centre  of  a  whirlwind  of  talk. 
Two  impassive  carabinieri,  in  long  black  coats 
and  cocked  hats,  joined  the  windy  battle. 
Finnerty  heard  "  ladri "  (thieves),  one  of  the 
few  Italian  words  he  knew,  repeated  many 

128 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

times.     It  wanted  only  twenty  minutes  of  four 
o'clock. 

"Where's  the  station  master?"  Finnerty 
demanded. 

"  Littla  pazienza,  sare  ! "  the  interpreter 
implored. 

A  girl  in  gray  walked  by,  followed  by  a  por 
ter  carrying  a  bandbox  and  a  cage  with  two 
white  pigeons  ;  she  gave  Finnerty  a  look  of 
pity,  —  it  was  the  Venus  of  the  doves  !  Was 
she  going  by  that  train  ? 

"  Where  is  the  station  master  ?  "  Finnerty 
repeated. 

"  Va  bene,  andiamo  al  capo  !  "  urged  the  in 
terpreter.  The  whole  party  marched  to  the 
office  of  ultimate  appeal,  —  in  reality  a  police 
station,  though  Finnerty  did  not  know  this,  — 
where  a  splendid  official  in  uniform  sat  in 
judgment  at  a  long  table  littered  with  papers. 
The  interpreter,  hat  in  hand,  told  Finnerty 's 
story  to  the  capo,  who  —  stern,  tired,  per 
spiring  profusely  —  listened  with  indifference. 
Finnerty  heard  the  word  "  ladri "  again  and 
again.  It  was  nearly  four  o'clock. 
9  129 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  Ladri !  yes ! "  he  cried  ;  "  you  're  all  thieves  ! 
All  Italians  from  the  King  down  are  thieves 
and  liars  ! " 

"  Levate  vi  il  cappello"  ordered  the  capo 
angrily. 

"  He  say  please  take  off  ze  hat,"  murmured 
the  interpreter. 

"  No,  I  won't ;  they  Ve  got  theirs  on." 

"  Ze  uffidali  nevair  remove  ze  hat,"  the  in 
terpreter  explained. 

"  I  'm  as  good  as  they  are  ! "  Finnerty  raged. 

"  Allora  levateglielo,  voi"  (then  take  it  off, 
you),  the  capo  commanded  in  a  terrible  voice, 
pointing  to  the  larger  gendarme.  The  man 
drew  his  sword,  and  gave  the  brim  of  Finnerty's 
hat  a  clip  that  sent  the  big  sombrero  flying.  It 
fell  on  the  dirty  floor. 

"  Take  that !  "  yelled  Finnerty,  and  struck 
the  guard  full  in  the  face.  In  the  ensuing 
scuffle  both  men  fell  to  the  ground.  When 
Finnerty  was  kicked  and  pulled  to  his  feet,  he 
was  handcuffed.  The  gendarme  lay  motion 
less.  The  clock  struck  four,  the  bell  rang,  the 
engine  panted,  the  train  steamed  out  of  the 

130       ' 


SAVONAROLA   FINNERTY 

station.  Through  the  haze  of  passion  Fin- 
nerty  saw  a  girl's  face  at  the  window  of  a  third- 
class  carriage  looking  at  him  compassionately. 
The  interpreter  picked  up  the  sombrero, 
straightened  the  peacock  feather,  and  put  the 
hat  on  the  prisoner's  head. 

"Ah,  sare,  a  littla  pazienza,  only  a  littla 
pazienzaf  Now  you  go  to  ze  prison  for  Use 
majeste  (ze  capo  he  understand  ze  English) ; 
you  may  call  noi  altri"  (we  others)  "  ladri,  but 
not  ze  King,  no." 

Finnerty  was  marched  to  the  police  gondola. 
On  that  dismal  journey  to  the  jail,  his  face 
pressed  close  to  the  small  grating  at  the  back 
of  the  boat,  he  saw  a  friend. 

"Hi!  Raffredo!  Gondolier!"  he  cried 
desperately. 

Raffredo,  explaining  the  glories  of  the 
Royal  Garden  to  his  fare  —  the  spectacled 
German  who  had  taken  Finnerty's  lodging  — 
did  not  hear  the  hail.  As  the  big  black  prison 
gondola  passed  him,  Raffredo  was  half  con 
scious  of  a  familiar  face  behind  the  bars. 
With  the  next  sweep  of  the  oars  the  prison 

131 


TWO    IN   ITALY 

boat  glided  around  a  corner,  passed  under  the 
Ponte  del  Sospiri  (the  Bridge  of  Sighs),  and 
stopped  at  the  door  of  the  carceri  criminali 
(criminal  prison). 

*  *  *  *  #•  #  # 

"  Who  's  Savonarola  Finnerty,  Esq.?  "  asked 
the  consul,  a  spare  energetic  Yankee. 

"An  American  artist  who  was  in  Venice 
while  you  were  away,"  de  Ruyter  Ruby 
explained. 

"  Here 's  a  letter  to  him  in  your  hand 
writing,  returned  from  Rome." 

"  Hullo  !  That 's  odd  !  I  wrote  asking  him 
to  send  back  the  money  I  lent  him  to  get 
there." 

"  You  '11  never  see  it  again." 

"  He  's  not  that  sort.  Finnerty  's  straight  — 
but  he  is  queer.  I  don't  quite  like  his  not 
having  reached  Rome." 

"  Has  he  any  friends  there  ? " 

"Plenty,  I  should  say.  He  spoke  of  know 
ing  Patsy." 

"Then  wire  for  news  of  him." 

The  answer  to  the  telegram  was  received 
132 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

before  night :  "  Finnerty  missing.     Find  him. 
Chalk  it  up  to  Patsy." 

"  That 's  definite,"  said  the  consul,  who  had 
great  respect  for  Patsy.  "  We  must  see 
what's  become  of  Finnerty.  Now,  young 
man,  you  have  just  forty-eight  hours  to  prove 
to  me  that  you're  worth  your  keep."  The 
consul  had  returned  unexpectedly  from  his 
well-earned  holiday.  He  was  not  exactly 
pleased  with  the  state  of  things  he  found  at 
the  consulate. 

Ruby  first  sought  the  capo  stazione.  The 
man  had  been  on  duty  only  a  week. 

"  There  are  so  many  strangers  at  this  sea 
son,"  he  said,  "  it  is  not  possible  to  remember 
the  gentleman  you  describe.  Inquiries  shall 
be  made.  I  will  let  the  Signor  Consolo  know, 
be  assured,  if  I  find  any  trace  of  him." 

The  ticket-seller,  naturally,  had  no  recollec 
tion  of  a  man  who,  but  for  the  intervention  of 
Heaven,  might  have  cost  him  his  post.  The 
office  of  the  luggage  clerk  was  closed,  the  in 
terpreter  was  at  luncheon  —  it  appeared  that 
nobody  had  ever  seen  Finnerty. 

133 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Outside  the  station  Ruby  paused,  uncertain 
as  to  the  next  move  in  the  game.  Twirling 
alternately  his  little  mustache  and  his  two- 
headed  cane,  he  looked  for  counsel  up  to  the 
pitiless  sky  (it  was  high  noon  of  a  scorching 
day  in  early  September)  and  down  into  the 
canal.  The  sunlight  glinted  on  the  polished 
ferro  of  a  neat  gondola  —  flashed  from  the  teeth 
and  eyes  of  a  handsome  gondolier  lounging 
against  the  fehe.  Ruby  hailed  him. 

"Poppef  Do  you  remember  that  signorino 
with  the  green  coat  and  the  peacock  feather 
you  brought  to  the  consulate?" 

"Per  Baccho  !  I  remember  him  well,  si" or ; 
un  bel  giovanotto,  ma  molto  originate !  He 
engaged  me  for  a  week.  I  went  to  his  lodg 
ing  every  morning  for  seven  days,  but  he  had 
evidently  left  Venice." 

"He  has  disappeared,"  said  Ruby,  "but  I 
do  not  think  he  has  left  Venice.  Help  me 
find  him,  and  there  will  be  a  buona  mano  of 
fifty  francs  for  you." 

"We  will  find  him.  Not  for  the  money, 
si' or,  but  because  he  was  tanto  buono,  tanto 

134 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

bello  f  Why,  he  paid  me  for  a  week  in  ad 
vance,  fearing,  I  suppose,  to  lose  his  money." 

"  You  are  quite  sure  you  have  seen  nothing 
of  him?" 

"  Wait.  One  afternoon,  —  corpo  !  it  must 
be  fifteen  days  since,  —  as  the  prison  gondola 
passed  I  saw  a  man  behind  the  grate  who 
looked  like  him — but  it  is  not  possible  —  no  !  " 

As  there  was  no  other,  Ruby  followed 
the  clew  Raffredo  offered.  It  led  to  the 
carceri  criminali,  where  a  prisoner  correspond 
ing  to  Finnerty  was  awaiting  trial  for  Use 
majeste  and  assault  and  battery  on  one  of  the 
King's  guard.  For  two  days  and  nights  Ruby 
worked  harder  than  he  had  ever  worked  in  his 
life.  Within  the  time  limit  set  by  his  chief, 
he  succeeded  in  obtaining  an  order  for  the  pris 
oner's  release. 

"Yes,  this  is  the  gentleman  I  am  looking 
for,"  said  Mr.  Ruby,  as  the  jailer  unlocked  the 
door  of  number  four,  a  small  stifling  cell.  Two 
perfectly  naked  men  (the  heat  was  intense) 
sat  at  a  table  playing  dominos.  The  white 
washed  walls  were  covered  with  bold  charcoal 

135 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

sketches  of  the  players,  disputing,  wrestling, 
casting  the  dice.  The  elder  face  was  sinister ; 
the  younger,  weak.  A  third  man  in  a  yellow 
shirt,  and  a  pair  of  creased  breeches  hanging 
loose  below  the  knee,  lay  asleep  on  a  bare 
board,  his  coat  folded  under  his  head  for  a 
pillow.  At  that  moment  an  attendant  set 
down  on  the  table — knocking  over  the  domi- 
nos  as  he  did  so — a  large  bowl  of  plain  boiled 
macaroni,  three  wedges  of  coarse  bread,  and 
a  pitcher  of  water. 

"  Poveiino  !  "  whispered  Raffredo ;  "  observe, 
Sir  Consul,  how  thin  he  has  grown.  Magari ! 
It  is  not  wonderful,  —  macaroni  without  par- 
migiano  or  even  tomato  sauce,  and  water! 
Dictscoci !  " 

Ruby  touched  the  sleeper  on  the  arm. 

"  Finnerty,  old  chap  !  Wake  up  1  It 's  all 
right." 

Savonarola,  dazed,  gaunt,  unshaven,  sat  up 
and  looked  uncertainly  at  the  deliverers. 
Raffredo  burst  into  tears,  knelt  beside  him  and 
petted  him  like  a  child. 

"  E  trovato  f  Coraggio,  caro  si  or  !  Tanto 
136 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

giovine,  tanto  bello."  (He  is  found !    Courage, 
dear  gentleman!     So  young,  so  handsome.) 

"Did  I  kill  that  guard?  Am  I  to  be 
hanged  or  electrocuted  ?  What  are  they  going 
to  do  with  me?" 

"  Give  you  a  bath,  a  dinner,  a  mint-julep,  if 
you  like.  First  of  all,  get  you  out  of  this." 

"  You  mean  it  ?  It 's  really  you,  Ruby  ?  This 
is  Raffredo  ? " 

"  Brace  up,  old  man,  you  're  free !  I  Ve 
fixed  it  up,  paid  a  big  fine  —  here 's  your  dis 
charge." 

Finnerty  stood  up,  spread  out  his  arms,  and 
drew  a  long  breath.  His  clouded  eyes  were 
clearing  fast.  "Have  you  any  tobacco  with 
you?"  he  asked. 

Ruby  gave  him  a  new  box  of  cigarettes. 

"  Here,  you  fellows,  share  and  share  alike." 
He  put  half  the  cigarettes  in  the  hand  of  each 
domino  player  (they  were  already  busy  gob 
bling  the  macaroni).  "  If  you  did  murder  a 
magistrate,  Nino  —  that's  what  he 's  accused  of 
—  1  am  sure  he  deserved  it.  I  hope  you  '11 
get  out  soon  and  kill  another." 

137 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

The  elder  of  the  players  nodded  his  thanks 
and  went  on  with  his  meal. 

"  Good-bye,  Obadia,  forgery 's  not  the  worst 
crime  ! "  Finnerty  shook  hands  with  the  two 
men ;  then,  to  Ruby,  "  Come!  let's  get  out  of 

this!" 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

"  Ai,  Patsy !    Where  art  thou  ? "  cried  Attilio. 

"  Coo  ar-r-r-ra  coo,  ar-r-r-ra  coo ! "  came  from 
a  wicker  bird-cage  (hanging  against  the  rose- 
covered  wall  of  Patsy's  garden),  where  two 
white  doves  with  pink  feet  cooed  and  cooed  to 
each  other  all  day  long.  The  brown  and  white 
puppy  scrambled  delightedly  over  Attilio. 

"I  am  a  little  early,"  said  Attilio;  "the 
others  will  be  here  soon." 

It  was  the  usual  hour  of  meeting.  Attilio 
lighted  a  cigarette  and  played  with  the  dog. 
He  had  not  long  to  wait  before  the  gate 
opened,  and  Patsy,  with  Finnerty  behind  him, 
entered.  Pietro  followed  with  the  luggage. 

"  Well  returned,  caro  Savo',"  cried  Attilio. 
"  What  a  surprise,  what  a  pleasure  to  see  thee 
again  !  Didst  thou  enjoy  Venice  ?  " 

138 


-:  ••; 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

"Well,  I  spent  one  night  in  a  cholera  hos 
pital,  three  weeks  in  quarantine,  fifteen  days  in 
prison,  if  you  call  that  enjoyment." 

"  Oh,  unfortunate  !  Oh,  poor  one  !  Thou 
makest  me  rage.  Did  I  not  warn  thee  against 
the  Venetians?" 

"You  did.  I  passed  the  last  night  at  the 
consul's  —  crusty  old  boy,  but  all  right.  After 
I  was  in  bed  he  or  his  nephew  (a  queer  duck) 
locked  my  door  on  the  outside.  That  did  n't 
keep  me  awake  !  They  gave  me  the  breakfast 
of  my  life :  fishballs  and  buckwheat  cakes. 
They  took  me  to  the  station  in  the  consul's 
gondola,  and  put  me  on  the  train.  They  must 
have  tipped  the  guard ;  he  pestered  me  with 
attentions  all  the  way  to  Rome.  Think  of 
their  telegraphing  you  to  meet  me,  Patsy!" 

"  The  consul  does  n't  know  that  you  're  only 
half  mad,  Savo',"  laughed  Patsy. 

"  Rome 's  good  enough  for  me.  As  to  the 
Venetians,  may  they  —  " 

Finnerty's  story  was  told  and  retold  many 
times.  He  and  Attilio  said  such  damaging 
things  about  the  Venetians  that  Patsy  —  al- 

139 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

ways  on  the  side  of  the  absent  —  grew  restive  ; 
his  patience  was  worn  out. 

"  Hold  up,  old  man,"  he  said  at  last;  "  how 
about  Savo'  Finnerty,  —  his  thirst  that  got 
him  into  quarantine,  his  temper  that  put  him 
in  quod  ? " 

Finnerty  changed  the  subject. 

"  Hullo  !  where  did  those  fowls  come  from  ? " 
He  pointed  to  the  wicker  cage. 

"  They  belong  to  a  lady.  I  'm  keeping  them 
till  she  finds  her  apartment." 

"Brown  eyes,  yellow  hair,  looks  like  an 
American  ? " 

"  That  describes  Miss  Fair." 

The  Venus  of  the  doves  was  in  Rome. 


140 


VI 
SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

(WHAT  I  KNEW  OF  HIM) 


CHAPTER  VI 

SAVONAROLA    FINNERTY 
(WHAT  I  KNEW  OF  HIM) 


THE   BALIAS    BATH 

"  "in%  OS  A  says  she  will  not  take  a  bath," 

m*£     Pompilia  announced. 
JL  m.     "Make  her!      There   are   enough 
of  you  women,  without  my  help,  I  suppose  ? " 
said  the  great  doctor.     He  has  the  face  of  an 
archangel  and  the  obstinacy  of  a  mule. 

"  '  Scusi?  she  says,  '  for  a  nursing  woman  to 
take  a  bath  means  death.'  Poverina,  she  is 
very  ignorant,"  murmured  Pompilia. 

"  Would  you  mind  trying  ?  "  asked  the  doc 
tor,  looking  at  me. 

"  You  must,"  cried  Patsy.  "  Hear  the  little 
beggar  cursing  the  hour  he  saw  the  light ! 
He's  hungry.  We  must  not  let  him  starve 
to  death,  after  all  the  trouble  we  Ve  had  to  get 
him  safely  born  ! " 

143 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

I  found  Rosa  in  an  immense  room,  half  bar 
rack,  half  prison.  It  was  paved  with  brick,  had 
a  stone  roof  and  walls,  and  eight  high  windows. 
A  long  tin  bathtub,  with  a  linen  sheet  under 
the  water  (the  tub  was  hired  for  the  occasion), 
stood  near  a  brazier  filled  with  burning  char 
coal.  On  a  low  chair  sat  Nena,  a  little  gnarled 
old  woman,  with  a  neatly  swaddled  infant  on 
her  knees. 

"  Io  vorrei  andar  in  carrozzella  per   andare,  per  andare 

nella  luna, 

Per  vedere  la  piu  be  Ha  delle  donne,  dclle  donne  de  lassii  !  " 
(I  should  like  to  drive  in  a  little  carriage,  to  go,  to  go, 

to  the  moon ; 
To  see  the  most  beautiful  of  the  women  up  there  1) 

She  crooned  to  the  new-born,  whimpering  in 
her  arms. 

Rosa  stood  in  a  corner,  her  back  to  the  wall, 
sullen  and  angry. 

"  No,  TIO,  I  tell  you  !  "  she  stormed.  "  I  did 
not  come  here  to  be  murdered,  but  to  give 
milk  to  that  povero  bambino "  (poor  baby). 
"  Let  the  accursed  vecchierella  nurse  him  if 
she  can ! " 

144 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

"See,  Rosa,  the  water  is  quite  warm  ;  it  can 
not  hurt  you.  Look  at  the  pretty  coral  neck 
lace  the  master  bought  you,  and  the  beautiful 
cap.  Who  ever  saw  such  splendid  scarlet  rib 
bons  ?  How  they  will  become  you  !  "  coaxed 
Pompilia. 

Rosa,  a  black-browed  woman  from  Subiaco 
in  the  Sabine  Hills,  showed  her  white  teeth  ; 
drew  from  the  busk  of  her  corset  (worn  out 
side  the  linen  shirt)  a  thin  sharp  dagger  with 
a  handle  of  two  enlaced  hearts,  and  stood  at 
bay. 

"  I  can  do  nothing  with  Rosa,"  I  said  to  the 
three  men  waiting  in  the  salon.  "  Go  for  Dr. 
Vernon.  I  believe  she  could  manage  her." 

She  did.  Somehow  that  small  plain  English 
girl  —  a  practising  physician  in  the  slums  of 
Whitechapel,  come  to  Rome  for  a  month's 
vacation  —  coaxed,  cajoled,  or  cowed  the  big 
black  bdlia  into  submitting  to  the  very  neces 
sary  ceremony  of  a  bath  before  the  little  atom 
of  humanity  was  committed  to  her  broad  brown 
breast. 

"  It 's  all  right  now,  Mr.  Finnerty,"  said  Dr. 
10  145 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Vernon.  "  I  Ve  scrubbed  Rosa  from  top  to  toe 
(she  needed  it).  What  a  splendid  savage ! 
The  great  doctor  has  turned  your  wife  and  the 
little  fellow  over  to  me.  Don't  be  afraid  to 
trust  me.  I  Ve  been  doing  this  sort  of  thing 
for  five  years.  Run  away  now  like  a  good 
man ;  this  is  no  place  for  a  husband.  Won't 
you  please  take  him  home  to  dinner  ? " 

"  He  looks  as  if  he  had  n't  eaten  a  square 
meal  for  a  month,"  whispered  Patsy. 

"  How  can  I,  when  you  have  commandeered 
all  my  wromen  for  service  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  have  a  fritto  misto  and  du"  spaghetti 
sent  up  from  the  trattoria.  1  '11  wait  on  table. 
It 's  not  worth  while  doing  things  by  halves  !  " 
So  perforce  I  took  them  both  home  and  fed 
them. 

When  the  Finnerty  baby  was  six  months 
old,  the  young  mother  sent  for  me.  Dr.  Ver 
non  had  gone  back  to  her  London  slums.  In 
her  absence  the  little  wind-flower  of  a  woman 
turned  to  the  great  doctor  and  to  me. 

"  Rosa  stabbed  Angelo  in  the  stomach  last 
night,"  Mrs.  Finnerty  quavered,  "  because  he 

146 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

said  she  stole  the  sugar.  Can  I  keep  such  a 
volcano  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  Let 's  see  the  baby,"  said  the  doctor. 

Rosa,  splendid  in  her  bdlia  finery,  brought 
in  the  child  and  proudly  exhibited  his  fat, 
creased  legs  and  arms. 

"Povero  Chccco  !  "  she  sang.  "  What  a  poor 
little  miserabile  thou  wast  when  I  took  thee  ! 
Who  gave  thee  all  this  good  flesh  ?  Rosa,  the 
thief!" 

The  wind-flower  shook  as  she  held  out  her 
thin  arms  for  the  child. 

"  Not  yet,  mamma  mia,  if  you  please,  not  till 
I  have  had  my  dinner  ;  then  send  Rosa  into 
the  kitchen  to  clean  the  pots  ! "  raged  the 
savage  Sabine. 

"  Rosa  's  right,  Mrs.  Finnerty.  You  can't  let 
her  go  with  the  hot  weather  coming  on.  She  's 
the  finest  wet-nurse  in  Rome  ;  make  the  best 
of  her." 

"  She  is  half  whirlwind,  half  virago,"  the 
baby's  mother  lamented. 

"  So  !  She  can't  entertain  your  company  in 
the  salon,  and  she  can't  play  the  piano,  but 

147 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

she's  a  good  wet-nurse,  eh?  Lock  up  the 
sugar,  dock  her  coffee  and  wine  every  time 
she  gets  into  a  passion,  and  put  up  with  her 
tantrums."  Leaving  us  to  consider  this  ex 
cellent  advice,  the  great  doctor  departed  to 
visit  a  royal  personage.  He  has  but  two 
classes  of  patients,  —  the  mighty,  who  pay 
him  immense  fees,  and  the  meek,  wrho  pay 
him  nothing.  He  is  quite  as  faithful  to  one 
as  to  the  other. 

"  You  will  wait  and  have  tea  with  us  ? "  Mrs. 
Finnerty  invited.  "  I  will  call  Savonarola.  He 
is  in  the  studio." 

Finnerty,  after  his  son's  birth,  had  given  his 
wife,  as  an  appropriate  present,  a  life-sized  cast 
of  the  Psyche  in  the  Naples  Museum.  Angelo, 
the  old  servant  who  took  care  of  those  three 
babes  in  the  nest,  coming  in  with  the  tea-tray, 
found  me  standing  before  the  copy  of  that 
sublime  fragment  of  classic  sculpture. 

"You  admire  that  statue,  Signora?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  admire  it  very  greatly,  Angelo  ;  do  not 
you  ? " 

148 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

"  Ah  !  you  should  have  seen  it  before  it  was 
broken  ;  it  was  a  capo  d9  opera  —  one  of  the 
most  to  be  admired  works  of  the  Signore 
Finnete.  What  a  pity  it  got  so  badly 
smashed ! " 

Pupils  had  been  found  for  Finnerty.  The  big 
barrack  of  a  room  where  I  first  saw  Rosa  was 
now  a  studio.  Here  every  morning  four  Ameri 
can  and  two  English  ladies  made  dreadful 
caricatures  in  clay  of  Rosa  and  the  baby,  of 
Mrs.  Finnerty,  and,  when  he  could  be  spared, 
of  Angelo. 

"It  is  rather  inconvenient,"  Mrs.  Finnerty 
confessed,  "  but  it  saves  hiring  models  ;  they 
are  so  expensive.  Yesterday  Savo'  asked  that 
old  beggar  who  sits  in  the  Corso  selling 
matches  to  pose  for  him.  What  do  you  think 
he  said  ? " 

"  You  must  not  mind  what  such  people  say. 
You  want  him  to  pose,  not  to  talk.  He  is  the 
handsomest  old  man  in  Rome." 

"  That 's  why  Savo'  wants  him.  He  looked 
at  us  quite  scornfully  and  said,  '  Grazie ;  it 
would  not  be  worth  my  while  to  come  for 

149 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

less   than   ten  francs  a  day.'     Think  of  it,  a 
beggar ! " 

"But  what  a  beggar!  Mr.  Finnerty  is 
right;  he's  worth  any  price." 

"  That  old  rascal  in  the  Corso  ? "  said  Fin 
nerty,  who  had  just  come  in.  "  I  must  look 
farther  even  if  I  fare  worse.  I  shall  need  a 
model  for  a  long  time,  and  I  must  get  him 
cheap.  My  '  next '  will  be  a  composition  of 
colossal  size." 

"  What  is  the  subject  ?  "  I  asked. 

"The  Oversoul  before  the  creation  of  the 
world,  brooding  over  the  universe." 

"  Think  what  it  will  cost  to  put  the  Oversoul 
into  plaster,"  I  said  to  Patsy  the  next  time  we 
talked  about  the  Finnertys,  as  we  did  very 
often  that  winter.  "  I  suppose  it 's  safe  not  to 
go  farther  than  plaster  ? " 
'  "Perfectly  safe,"  Patsy  agreed.  "  Savo's 
serious  compositions  never  go  beyond  plaster. 
If  he  would  only  stick  to  animals !  Nobody 
can  touch  him  there,  but  he  thinks  them  be 
neath  him." 

"  You  might  let  Savo'  know,"  said  J., "  that  I 
150 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

have  found  a  model  for  him.  He  can  get  him 
cheap,  —  his  food,  tobacco,  and  a  couple  of 
francs  a  day  will  satisfy  the  chap." 

"  Where  did  you  find  him  ? "  I  asked. 

"  On  the  steps  of  the  Piazza  di  Spagna  (time 
out  of  mind  the  models'  exchange)  of  course." 

"  At  two  francs  a  day  ?     No,  seriously  ? " 

"  That  evening  I  walked  home  from  Albano, 
the  night  of  the  full  moon,"  said  J.,  "I  saw  a 
fire  on  the  Campagna,  only  a  little  way  from 
the  road,  in  front  of  a  capanna  —  you  know, 
one  of  those  reed  huts  the  shepherds  build  for 
shelter  against  sun  and  storm.  I  was  cold  and 
tired.  The  blaze  looked  comforting.  I  started 
for  it.  A  fierce  white  sheep  dog  sprang  at  me, 
growling.  At  that  a  man  in  a  slouch  hat  with 
a  long  cloak  —  he  was  a,pecorqjo"  (shepherd) 
"  got  up  from  the  ground  by  the  fire  and  threw 
a  stone  and  a  curse  at  that  wolfish  beast. 

" '  Chette  possino  scannaT  he  said  to  his  dog  ; 
to  me,  'favorisca,9  and  made  me  free  of  the  fire, 
—  all  the  comfort  the  poor  devil  had.  As  we 
sat  over  the  few  burning  brands,  in  the  broad 
moonlight,  among  the  ghosts  of  last  year's 

151 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

thistles,  talking  about  sheep,  the  pecorajo 
began  to  yawn.  Such  prodigious  yawning  I 
never  saw.  He  looked  as  sleepy  as  I  felt. 
I  turned  my  back  to  the  fire  and  stretched 
myself  along  the  ground.  I  must  have  fallen 
asleep,  for  the  next  thing  I  knew  the  pecorajo 
was  shaking  me  by  the  arm.  '  Qui  meno  si 
dorme,  meglio  est ! '  he  said.  I  must  have  been 
dreaming,  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  one  of  the 
ancient  Romans  was  speaking  to  me;  cer 
tainly  that  was  the  nearest  thing  to  Latin  I 
ever  heard  an  Italian  say." 

"  That  fellow  probably  saved  you  from  the 
perniciosa.  Sleeping  on  the  Campagna  is  a 
pretty  sure  way  to  malarial  fever,"  said  Patsy. 

"  I  suppose  it  is.  The  pecorajo  himself  (his 
name  is  Tommaso)  has  a  touch  of  malaria  ;  he  's 
in  need  of  a  little  treatment.  You  11  ask  the 
doctor  to  look  out  for  him  ?  " 

"  We  have  asked  the  doctor  to  look  out  for 
so  many  people  —  "I  said. 

"  What 's  the  difference  ?  When  the  doctors 
want  to  learn  things,  they  experiment  on 
those  poor  peasants.  It's  their  business  to 

152 


THE  YAWNING  SHEPHERD 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

take  care  of  them  when  they  are  ill,"  cried 
Patsy. 

"  I  gave  the  pecorajo  the  address  of  my 
studio,  and  said  I  could  give  him  a  place  to 
sleep,"  J.  confessed. 

"  If  he  should  appear,"  I  temporized. 

"  He  was  sitting  on  the  steps  when  I  went 
to  the  studio  this  morning.  I  left  him  asleep 
in  the  straw  of  an  empty  stall  in  the  stable 
under  the  studio.  The  best  bed,  he  told  me, 
he  had  slept  in  for  a  long  time." 

The  doctor  took  J.'s  point  of  view  and 
adopted  the  shepherd  as  a  patient.  Finnerty 
fell  in  love  with  him,  and  engaged  him  as  a 
model ;  another  pecorajo  now  minds  the  sheep. 
Thus  was  Tommaso  added  to  our  circle. 

Finnerty 's  new  studio  was  in  the  ruins  of  the 
Thermas  of  Diocletian :  a  mighty  red  brick 
skeleton,  all  that  remains  of  a  once  stupendous 
marble  chamber  —  the  tepidarium  perhaps  — 
of  Rome's  greatest  bath.  Here  he  set  up  the 
colossal  statue  of  the  Oversoul.  He  threw 
himself  into  his  work  with  incredible  energy. 
The  mammoth  figure  grew  astonishingly 

153 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

quickly.  The  Oversoul  was  a  huge  winged 
figure  seated  in  the  Occidental  attitude  on  a 
fragment  of  cloud.  With  the  exception  of 
the  pose,  the  spirit  of  the  thing  was  Oriental, 
suggesting  the  conventional  representations  of 
Buddha.  The  face  was  contemplative,  the 
eyes  downcast,  the  hands  folded.  In  size  it 
was  to  be  only  smaller  than  the  singing  statue 
of  Memnon  at  Luxor,  on  the  Nile.  Its  im 
mediate  destination  was  the  White  City  by 
the  Lake,  —  then  still  a  dream,  now  a  glorious 
memory.  In  those  long  summer  days,  the 
artists'  harvest  season,  Savo'  worked  from  day 
light  to  dark. 

"  It 's  terrific  to  see  him,"  I  said  to  Patsy. 
"  Can  flesh  and  blood  stand  such  a  labor  of 
Hercules  ? " 

"  He  can't  keep  it  up  long,"  said  Patsy.  "  Now 
his  strength  is  as  the  strength  of  ten,  because 
he  is  a  little  mad.  Did  you  notice  that  fanat 
ical  gleam  in  his  eyes  ? " 

"  And  the  statue  ? " 

"Quite  mad.  He'll  see  it  himself  some 
day.  There 's  no  doubt  about  Savo's  imagina- 

154 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

tion ;  the  question  is  about  his  character.  Time 
alone  shows  that.  I  am  not  quite  sure  whether 
Savo'  is  a  great  artist  or  only  a  great  dreamer." 

Savo'  said  it  helped  him  to  have  us  watch 
him  work,  so  I  often  dropped  into  the  studio 
with  J.,  or  Patsy,  or  both  at  the  end  of  the 
day.  One  evening  we  found  him  seated  on  the 
staging  in  his  blue  cotton  sculptor's  blouse, 
smoking  a  cigarette.  For  once  he  was  idle ; 
sitting  inert  and  weary,  leaning  against  one 
mighty  wing  of  his  Colossus. 

"  How  have  you  been  getting  on  ? "  asked 
Patsy. 

"  As  you  see.  Sometimes  I  think  it  cannot 
be  done  in  time  for  the  opening  of  the  World's 
Fair,"  Savo'  sighed. 

"  What  then  ? " 

"  Then  I  shall  put  it  up  myself,  somewhere 
outside  the  grounds  by  the  edge  of  the  Lake, 
where  everybody  can  see  it." 

"  If  you  want  to  make  money,  put  it  on 
piles  in  the  Lake,  and  let  boats  for  people  to 
row  out  and  see  it.  Make  it  a  side  show,  at  a 
quarter  a  head,"  said  J. 

155 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  Who  laughs  last  laughs  best,"  said  Savo' 
quietly,  blowing  out  white  rings  of  smoke  that 
ascended  like  incense  to  the  downcast  face  of 
the  brooding  Colossus.  The  man's  eyes  were 
clouded,  his  broad  shoulders  were  bent ;  even 
his  mop  of  chestnut  hair  (it  usually  stood 
straight  on  end),  matted  with  perspiration,  lay 
damp  and  lifeless  on  his  forehead. 

"  Savo 's  at  the  end  of  this  stunt,"  said  Patsy, 
as  we  went  away.  "  I  must  take  him  away 
with  me  for  a  trip." 

"  He  can't  afford  —  "I  began. 

"  That  does  n't  matter,"  said  Patsy  ;  "  some 
body  else  can  afford." 

"  Who  is  paying  for  the  Oversoul  ? "  I 
asked. 

"  One  of  his  scholars  ;  a  rich  woman  with  a 
bigger  income  than  she  can  spend.  I  never 
saw  anything  so  refreshing  as  Savo's  indifference 
to  money." 

"  Is  n't  it  rather  inconvenient  to  his  friends 
sometimes  ? "  I  timidly  suggested. 

"  There  you  go,  like  the  rest.  It 's  the  taint 
of  trade.  We  Americans  can't  get  rid  of  it,  try 

156 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

ever  so  hard !  There 's  no  offence  in  Savo's 
views  because  there 's  no  pose.  When  he  was 
in  Paris  (we  were  in  the  same  atelier),  Savo'  had 
a  good  allowance  from  a  fat  richling  who  was 
backing  him.  His  money  came  '  fresh  and 
fresh '  the  first  of  every  month.  For  the  first 
fifteen  days  of  the  month  Finnerty  dined  at 
the  Cafe  Foyau,  for  the  next  ten  days  at 
Clarisse's,  the  last  week  anywhere.  I  went 
with  him  once  to  a  place  in  a  cellar  kept  by 
an  old  witch.  She  had  a  great  *  pot  au  feu,'  a 
caldron  full  of  stew,  boiling  over  a  fire.  You 
paid  a  sou ;  the  witch  gave  you  a  three-tined 
steel  fork,  and  you  speared  what  you  could 
from  her  caldron.  At  my  first  try  I  split  a 
potato  and  got  nothing  but  the  crack.  Savo' 
was  a  '  dab '  at  the  game  ;  he  drew  the  prize,  — 
a  bone  with  a  whole  hock  of  mutton.  As  long 
as  his  money  lasted,  Savo'  shared  it  with 
whoever  was  hard  up ;  now  that  he  has  a 
wife  and  child,  is  n't  it  our  business  to  stand 
by  him  ? " 


157 


II 

GHOST'S  COMMISSION 

FINNERTY  refused  to  take  the  trip  Patsy 
offered  him ;  he  could  not  leave  the  Oversoul. 
The  vast  creature  of  his  fancy  threatened,  like 
a  second  Frankenstein's  monster,  to  crush  the 
life  out  of  its  creator.  Finnerty's  patroness, 
falling  out  of  conceit  with  him  and  his  magnum 
opus,  withdrew  her  support.  Somehow,  in 
spite  of  this,  the  wonderful  great  statue  got 
finished,  packed,  and  shipped  to  America. 
Then  came  the  dire  news  that  the  Colossus  had 
been  broken  in  transportation,  and  was  held  at 
New  York  for  freight  charges.  At  this  Fin- 
nerty  fell  into  a  state  of  nervous  melancholia, 
verging  on  madness.  Patsy  Puss-in-Boots, 
Finnerty's  good  genius,  was  at  his  wits'  end 
how  to  help  him. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  like  to 
look  into  Finnerty's  eyes  now." 

"His  little  wife  is  poorly  too.  Her  skin 
was  as  smooth  as  Martin's  "  (the  baby  had  been 

159 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

given  his  father's  name  in  full)  "when  they 
were  married ;  now  she  has  crow's-feet  —  at 
her  age  ! " 

"  And  a  husband  and  a  baby ! 

Time,  like  a  fishwife,  does  n't  fight  fair ; 

He  scratches  your  face  and  pulls  out  your  hair/* 

said  Patsy,  consolingly.  "  All  we  can  do  is  to 
'  goody  them  up,'  and  keep  a  weather-eye  open 
for  windfalls." 

We  were  waiting  for  Mrs.  Finnerty,  who 
presently  appeared  with  Martin  Luther,  a 
magnificent  child,  in  her  arms.  Rosa  had 
gone  back  to  Subiaco.  Angelo  now  discharged 
the  duties  of  nurse,  cook,  and  cameriere. 

66  Is  n't  Martin  too  heavy  for  you  to  carry, 
Mrs.  Finnerty  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  no.  Angelo  will  take  him  as  soon  as 
he  has  brought  our  tea.  He  worships  baby, 
but  he  has  such  strange  ways!  Last  night 
Savo'  and  I  dined  at  Bucci's  (I  thought  it 
might  cheer  him  up).  When  we  came  home, 
it  must  have  been  past  ten  o'clock,  the  house 
was  empty.  Savo'  rushed  over  to  the  osteria 

160 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

opposite.  There  sat  Angelo  at  a  table  drink 
ing  among  a  lot  of  coachmen,  with  Martin  in 
his  arms.  He  said  he  had  business  there,  and 
thought  it  was  better  to  take  baby  with  him 
than  to  leave  him  at  home  alone." 

"  What  is  Angelo's  business,  besides  taking 
care  of  you  ? "  asked  Patsy. 

"  He  is  a  seer — a  dreamer.  I  had  forgotten 
it  was  Thursday,  Angelo's  busy  day.  The  lot 
tery  is  drawn  on  Friday ;  some  of  the  people  in 
the  neighborhood  pay  Angelo  for  giving  them 
lucky  numbers.  He  has  been  fortunate  lately  ; 
last  week  Giggi  della  Fiumaccia  won  five  hun 
dred  francs  on  a  number  Angelo  gave  him." 

"  There  is  a  strange  gentleman  outside  ask 
ing  for  the  Signore,"  Angelo  announced,  giv 
ing  Mrs.  Finnerty  a  card.  She  read  the  name 
aloud : 


DE  RUYTER  RUBY 

DENTISTE 

(Ancien  Diplomate) 

12  A  Via  Frattina 


"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  she  appealed  to  Patsy. 
"Oh,   yes,   Ruby's   an  old  friend  of  your 
11  161 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

husband's  and  mine.    Let  him  come  in.     I  '11 
introduce  him.     Savo'  will  be  back  soon." 

The  ancien  diplomate  bustled  into  the  bare 
little  salon,  where,  after  five  minutes,  he  was 
as  much  at  home  as  Patsy  himself. 

"  Nice  place  you  Ve  got  here,  Mrs.  Fin- 
nerty,"  he  said.  "  Those  doves  remind  me  of 
Venice.  You  are  fond  of  animals  ? " 

"  The  doves  came  from  Venice ;  both  my 
husband  and  I  have  to  have  animals.  Tom- 
maso  (he 's  the  model)  has  given  Savo'  the  love 
liest  little  cosset  lamb  from  the  flock  of  sheep 
he  used  to  tend.  The  lamb  lives  at  the  studio. 
He  is  as  tame  as  a  kitten.  Baby  loves  him." 

"  You  have  left  Venice,  Ruby  ?  Given  up 
diplomacy?"  asked  Patsy. 

"  For  the  moment.  My  uncle  lost  his  place 
when  the  administration  changed." 

"  So  you  Ve  come  to  Rome  and  put  up 
your  shingle  as  a  dentist.  Where  did  you 
learn  that  trade  ? " 

"I  am  a  graduate  of  the  Boise  City  Dental 
College.  Until  I  receive  a  diplomatic  appoint 
ment  —  " 

162 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

*  You  Ve  returned  to  your  first  love  ?  Good 
enough ! " 

"  I  hope  Mr.  Finnerty  is  doing  well  ?  Lots 
of  orders  and  that  sort  of  thing  ? "  Ruby 
asked  politely. 

Mrs.  Finnerty  changed  color  and  hesitated. 

"  Famously,"  Patsy  assured  him ;  "  he 's  over 
whelmed  with  work.  That 's  the  way  with  our 
people ;  we  either  let  an  artist  starve  to  death 
or  we  kill  him  wTith  orders." 

"There's  a  rich  man  called  Ghost  here  — 
funny  name,  is  n't  it  ?  He 's  very  sensitive 
about  it  —  who  has  brought  me  a  letter  of 
introduction  from  my  uncle.  He 's  interested 
in  art,  wants  to  see  studios  and  that  sort  of 
thing,"  said  Mr.  Ruby. 

Patsy  gave  me  a  warning  look ;  the  fish 
must  be  left  to  his  angling. 

"  I  'm  not  in  that  line  myself,"  Ruby  went 
on.  "  I  have  no  time  to  go  round  with  him ; 
besides,  I  am  a  stranger  in  Rome.  I  have  my 
practice  to  work  up.  I  thought  perhaps  Mr. 
Finnerty  might — " 

"  No,  no,"  interrupted  Patsy.  "  Savo's  time 
163 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

is  too  precious.  Bring  your  friend  to  my 
place,  Via  Flaminia  outside  the  Porta  del 
Popolo  —  all  the  cabmen  know  it.  I  will 
show  him  every  studio  in  Rome  worth  see 
ing." 

The  ancien  diplomat e  burbled  with  joy. 
"  I  say,  you  're  awfully  kind.  People  come 
over  here  for  a  vacation  and  expect  us  fellows 
who  have  our  living  to  make  — hard  enough 
job  in  Italy  anyway  —  to  devote  all  our  time  to 
going  f  sight-seeing '  with  them." 

"  Oh,  that 's  part  of  '  the  price  of  Europe.' 
It's  a  long  price,  whatever  way  you  look  at  it," 
sighed  Patsy. 

We  heard  nothing  of  Patsy  for  a  fortnight ; 
that  meant  he  was  playing  the  fish,  probably 
with  a  chance  of  landing  it.  Then  we  re 
ceived  a  summons,  begging  us  to  come  to 
Finnerty's  studio  that  afternoon  to  meet  Mr. 
Ghost  of  Boise  City.  We  arrived  a  few 
moments  before  the  appointed  time.  Finnerty 
was  alone.  He  looked  better ;  his  eyes  were 
no  longer  desperate,  only  depressed.  In  the 
middle  of  the  studio,  so  tragically  empty  since 

164 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

the  departure  of  the  Colossus,  stood  some 
composition  in  clay  wrapped  in  wet  cloths. 

"  You  're  at  work  again  ?  "  cried  J. 

Finnerty  took  off  the  covering  and  showed 
a  portrait  bust  of  a  fat  man  with  mutton-chop 
whiskers. 

"  Do  you  call  that  work  ?  It 's  nothing  but 
an  infernal  pot-boiler  !  " 

Finnerty  felt  the  gray  clay,  found  it  too 
dry,  filled  a  syringe  with  water,  and  sprinkled 
the  bust. 

"  Nonsense  ! "  said  J.  He  shut  one  eye  and 
"  squinted  "  at  the  portrait.  "It's  ripping  good 
stuff,  and  you  know  it." 

"  I  am  sure  it 's  an  excellent  likeness,"  I 
said.  "  Why,  the  thing  speaks  !  " 

"I  think  it  is  like  Ghost,  though  why  he, 
or  anybody  else,  should  want  it —  Here  he 
is  now ;  you  can  judge  of  the  likeness  your 
self." 

Mr.  Ghost  —  a  gentleman  of  benevolent 
aspect,  a  trifle  fatter  than  the  bust  —  came 
hurriedly  into  the  studio.  Though  he  shook 
hands  politely  with  us,  he  had  eyes  only  for 

165 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Finnerty.  He  was  evidently  fascinated  by 
this  (to  him)  new  species  of  man. 

"How  do  you  like  the  marble,  Mr.  Fin 
nerty  ?  It 's  a  magnificent  piece  of  Carrara, 
your  friend  Patsy  tells  me  ;  there 's  not  a  flaw 
in  it."  He  passed  his  beringed  hands  caress 
ingly  over  a  large  block  of  white  marble  that 
stood  in  a  corner  of  the  studio. 

"  Oh,  it 's  all  right,"  said  Finnerty,  moodily, 
"  if  I  only  knew  what  to  do  with  it." 

"  You  '11  see  the  figure  wrestling  to  get  out 
of  the  stone,  as  Michael  Angelo  did,  some  day? 
Mr.  Finnerty.  Trust  to  your  inspiration,  sir ! " 

"  Inspiration  ?  "  cried  Finnerty  ;  "inspiration 
means  perspiration  !  4  Wrestling '  ?  When  I 
think  how  I  have  wrestled  with  that  Over- 
soul—  " 

"It's  uncommonly  good  marble,  I  should 
say,"  J.  hastily  interrupted. 

Finnerty  nodded  gloomily. 

"I  bought  it  cheap,  at  the  sale  of  that  French 
sculptor's  effects  the  other  day,"  Mr.  Ghost 
explained.  "  I  am  building  a  house.  It  will  be 
the  largest  private  residence  west  of  Chicago. 

166 


SAVONAROLA  FINNERTY 

Mr.  Finnerty  has  promised  to  make  me  an 
original  composition  for  my  new  art  gallery." 

"Patsy  promised,"  Finnerty  amended  (I 
could  have  boxed  his  disconsolate  ears).  "  There 
he  is  now  ;  ask  him  what  he  sees  in  the  marble." 

Mrs.  Finnerty  with  Martin,  followed  by  the 
pet  lamb,  and  convoyed  by  Patsy  (light,  and 
tireless  of  foot  as  Mercury,  messenger  of  the 
gods),  appeared  in  the  flood  of  sunlight  the 
opened  door  let  into  the  grim  studio. 

"  This  is  my  wife,"  said  Finnerty. 

"  I  am  so  pleased  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Corpse," 
said  Mrs.  Finnerty. 

"  Ghost,  marm.  The  name  was  originally 
Geist,"  corrected  its  owner.  "  It  was  changed 
by  act  of  legislature." 

Patsy  looked  murder  at  the  poor  little 
woman,  who  held  up  Martin  as  if  to  screen 
herself  behind  the  child.  Finnerty  laughed 
openly  at  his  wife.  As  she  stood  there,  shy, 
lovely,  blushing,  the  baby  in  her  arms,  the  pet 
lamb  snuggling  at  her  feet,  Finnerty 's  dull, 
indifferent  eyes  fastened  upon  her,  took  fire 
and  depth,  positively  glowed  with  inner  light. 

167 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

"  Stand  beside  the  marble,  hold  the  boy  as 
you  did  just  now  —  God  !  she  's  just  the  right 
size.  How  would  that  subject  do  for  your 
art  gallery,  Mr.  Ghost  ?  "  With  a  bit  of  char 
coal  Finnerty  rapidly  sketched  the  group  on 
the  face  of  the  marble  block. 

"It's  the  best  subject  in  the  world,  Mr. 
Finnerty !  Do  it,  sir,  at  your  own  price,  and 
1 11  settle  the  bills." 

"  Goo  ! "  babbled  Martin  Luther.  Pleased 
by  Mr.  Ghost's  cable  of  gold  watch-chain 
and  his  glistening  scarf-pin,  the  baby  stretched 
his  arms  towards  the  gentleman  from  Boise' 
City. 

"  Children  always  like  me,"  said  Ghost ; 
"  may  I  relieve  you,  marm  ? " 


168 


VII 

THE  HERMIT   OF  PIETRO 
ANZIERI 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   HERMIT  OF  PIETRO   ANZIERI 

I 

THE   MIRACULOUS    PICTURE 

THE  rivalry  between  Roccaraso  and 
Pescocostanzo  dates  from  the  earliest 
settlement  of  these  two  Abruzzi  vil 
lages  in  the  fifth  century.  The  hermit  of 
Pietro  Anzieri  knows  something  of  local  tra 
dition.  He  will  tell  you  —  if  you  can  have 
patience  with  his  slow,  halting  speech,  his 
funny,  fumbling  manner  —  old  tales  of  the 
old  feud.  He  had  been  repeating  to  his  niece 
Carolina  a  terrible  story  of  ravishment ;  how 
on  a  certain  May  morning  twenty  of  the  girls 
and  women  of  Roccaraso,  bleaching  their  linen 
in  the  meadow  outside  the  walled  town,  were 
surprised  and  carried  off  by  the  men  of  Pes 
cocostanzo.  When  the  Roccarasans  returned 
from  the  expedition  that  had  left  their  wives 

171 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

and  daughters  unprotected,  they  wreaked  a 
prompt  and  bloody  vengeance.  Both  kidnap 
ping  and  chastisement  occurred  in  the  thir 
teenth  century.  The  old  unkindness  still  lives 
on ;  it  echoes  in  the  hermit's  talk,  in  his  dis 
trust  of  all  that  comes  out  of  Pescocostanzo. 

"  Ma  die  !  All  that  happened  so  many  years 
ago,  do  let  us  forget  about  it!"  exclaimed 
Carolina,  who  had  heard  the  story  fifty  times. 
"  They  were  very  bad  people,  were  they  not  ?  " 

"Bad?"  squeaked  the  hermit.  "Bad? 
They  were  monsters  !  " 

"Then,"  argued  Carolina,  with  charming 
reasonableness,  —  "then,  zio  mio,  let  us  not 
think  of  them  more."  Carolina  had  no 
patience  with  historians  who  perpetuate  the 
memory  of  bad  people  or  wicked  actions. 

"That  was  not  the  beginning,"  grumbled 
the  hermit ;  "  when  the  founders  of  Roccaraso, 
driven  from  the  plains  by  the  Saracens,  took 
refuge  with  their  women  and  children  in  these 
great  mountains  (where  il  buon  Dio  meant 
there  to  be  room  for  all),  how  did  the  accursed 
Pescocostanzans  treat  those  poor  unfortunate 

172 


HERMIT  OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

fugitives  ?     Answer  me  that !     Even  the  chil 
dren  know  that  story  ! " 

Carolina  laughed,  good-humoredly  repeat 
ing,  "  Non  pensiamod  piu  !  Why  should  we 
remember  those  bad  people  ?  Is  it  not  more 
meritorious  to  remember  the  blessed  saints  ? 
Look  now  at  what  I  have  brought  you  !  Last 
night  grandfather's  black-faced  sheep  took  it 
into  her  stupid  head  to  fall  into  the  stone 
quarry  and  get  killed.  This  morning  every 
bit  of  her  flesh  was  sold ;  the  Sindaco  bought 
one  hind-quarter,  the  Parroco  the  other.  Yes, 
we  made  a  good  thing  out  of  it.  I  begged  the 
neck  of  mutton  from  grandfather  to  make 
broth  for  my  brother  and  you." 

"  Our  Lady,  whose  poor  servant  I  am,  will 
reward  Sor'  Giacomo  and  you,  too,  nipotina 
mia.  It  is  long  since  I  have  had  the  taste  of 
meat ;  it  appears  to  me  that  this  mutton-broth 
will  re-establish  my  strength." 

The  whitewashed  hermitage  stands  high 
above  a  dazzling  gray  highroad  near  the  valley 
of  the  Rasino.  In  the  corridor  adjoining  the 
chapel,  where  the  hermit  and  Carolina  were 

173 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

talking,  six  sleeping  berths  the  length  of  a 
man  were  fastened  against  the  wall ;  a  skull 
and  crossbones  hung  above  each  bed.  The 
hermit  opened  the  rough  cupboard  where  he 
kept  his  provisions,  —  a  loaf  of  hard  bread, 
some  corn  meal,  and  a  bottle  of  acquavite- 
Carolina  washed  the  cleanest  bowl  she  could 
find  and  set  the  broth  away  in  the  cupboard. 

"  Look  now  at  what  I  have  for  Our  Lady  ! " 
She  produced  a  bouquet  of  pink  paper  roses. 

"  She  will  reward  you.  Come  into  the  chapel ; 
you  yourself  shall  arrange  the  flowers." 

The  tiny  chapel  of  the  hermitage  contains 
one  small  altar,  a  pair  of  handsome  candle 
sticks,  and  two  lustre  vases.  An  old  painting 
of  Madonna  and  Child  —  smoke-blackened 
and  badly  out  of  repair  —  hangs  over  the 
altar.  Carolina  dusted  the  chapel  and  arranged 
her  flowers  in  the  vases. 

"  You  look  better,  uncle,"  she  said  cheer 
fully.  "  Our  Lady  is  not  unmindful  of  you. 
You  will  be  yourself  again  in  another  week." 

"  All  things  are  possible  through  Our  Lady's 
intervention.  You  remember  what  happened 

174 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO   ANZIERI 

when  the  men  of  Pescocostanzo  tried  to  steal 
the  holy  picture  ?  First  they  came  with  a  car 
riage  and  four  horses.  Would  you  believe  it, 
that  picture,  wrhich  I  can  carry  alone,  grew  to 
so  great  a  weight  the  horses  could  not  move 
the  carriage  !  Then  they  came  with  six  oxen 
in  an  ox  cart.  Since  that  blessed  night  when 
Our  Lady  lay  in  a  stable,  the  ox  has  been  less 
stupid  an  animal  than  is  commonly  supposed. 
Those  oxen  refused  to  stir  a  step  with  the  holy 
picture.  At  last  wicked  men,  with  hearts 
harder  than  the  dumb  beasts',  took  it  in  their 
arms  and  carried  it  away  to  their  church  in 
Pescocostanzo.  The  next  morning  the  picture 
was  back  in  its  old  place  where  you  now  see  it, 
having  flown  all  the  way  by  night." 

"  She  has  great  powers,  Romito  "  (hermit), 
said  Carolina,  rising  from  her  knees.  "May 
she  grant  the  grace  of  my  dear  brother's 
recovery ! " 

"  How  did  you  leave  poor  Giulio  ? "  asked 
the  hermit,  his  lean,  lank  unshaven  face,  his 
big  foolish  eyes  grown  tender  with  sympathy. 

"E  tutto  consumato!"  (consumed,  wasted 
175 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

away )  "  his  cough  is  terrible."  Her  eyes 
brimmed  over  with  tears. 

"  Despair  not ;  above  all,  cease  not  to  pray," 
said  the  hermit,  earnestly.  Just  then  the 
government  doctor  put  his  head  into  the 
chapel. 

"  Ah,  Romito,  there  you  are !  I  have 
brought  your  medicine.  It  will  do  you  no 
good,  however,  if  you  will  stay  in  this  damp 
place  when  you  have  fever  and  ought  to  be 
in  bed.  Is  that  you,  Carolina?  How  has 
your  brother  Giulio  been  sleeping  ? " 

"  He  cannot  sleep.  He  will  not  eat  —  not 
even  those  things  of  luxury  you  ordered  for 
him.  Ahime!  The  money  I  have  spent  on 
white  bread,  fresh  eggs,  marsala  wine  for 
him!" 

"  Lost  his  appetite,  eh  ?  I  must  give  him  a 
tonic." 

"  I  fear  the  winter  will  be  very  hard  on  him, 
dottore  mio ;  what  do  you  think  ?  "  she  said 
timidly. 

The  doctor,  looking  down,  flicked  the  dust 
from  his  high  boots  with  his  riding-whip. 

176 


HERMIT  OF  PIETRO   ANZIERI 

Carolina  read  his  face  with  keen,  anguished 
eyes. 

"  He  will  die  ? "  she  cried  shrilly,  facing  for 
the  first  time  the  thing  she  had  long  feared. 

The  doctor  murmured  a  perfunctory  "  Men- 
tre  che  se  campa,  ce  sempre  speranza  !  "  (while 
there  is  life  there  is  hope). 

"  Caro  dottore,  have  patience.  You  remem 
ber  the  young  officer  who  was  qfflitissimo 
with  this  same  terrible  malady  ?  To  tell  the 
truth,  he  looked  worse  than  Giulio  two  years 
ago.  You  sent  him  to  a  far  country.  He  is 
cured.  Why  not  send  my  brother  to  that 
same  place  ? " 

"  Giulio  is  better  off  in  his  own  home,  with 
you  to  take  care  of  him." 

"  Scusi,  caro  dottore,  you  are  a  wise,  distin 
guished  gentleman;  I  am  only  a  poor  igno 
rant  girl,  but  I  know  that  Giulio  cannot  live 
through  another  winter  in  Roccaraso.  Could 
he  live  longer  in  that  other  country  ? " 

The  doctor  was  silent. 

"  If  I  bring  the  money  and  put  it  in  your 
hand,  you  will  save  my  brother  ?  Though  we 
12  177 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

are  poor  creatures,  —  hardly  better  than  the 
beasts  of  the  fields,  —  life  is  as  sweet  to  us 
as  to  you  gentlefolks." 

She  put  her  hand  to  her  lips,  then  laid  it  on 
the  skirts  of  his  coat. 

"The  young  officer  is  at  Davos-Platz  in 
Switzerland.  That  he  is  better  there  does  not 
prove  the  climate  would  suit  Giulio.  Davos  is 
very  far  from  here,  two  days  and  nights  in  the 
train,  perhaps  even  longer.  You,  poor  child, 
cannot  afford  to  send  your  brother  to  Switzer 
land.  Besides — ."  He  paused. 

"  What  would  the  journey  cost  ? " 

"  Perhaps  two  hundred  francs." 

"  How  much  to  keep  him  there  ?  " 

"  He  might  live  for  three  or  four  francs  a 
day." 

"  Madonna  mia  !     But  that  is  robbery  !  " 

"  To  travel  one  must  have  soldi  in  the 
pocket,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  And  we  others,"  put  in  the  hermit,  "  have 
only  the  headache  in  the  pocket." 

"  Look,  Carolina,"  said  the  doctor,  earnestly  ; 
"  unless  you  stop  worrying  about  Giulio,  you 

178 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO   ANZIERI 

cannot  be  a  good  nurse  to  him  ;  a  smile  is 
better  than  a  plaster.  All  the  same  I  will  send 
a  tonic  to  help  his  appetite.  Run  away  now 
like  a  good  child  ;  it  is  the  Romito's  turn  to 
talk  about  his  aches  and  pains." 

Carolina's  eyes  probed  the  doctor's,  then 
dropped  humbly.  She  drew  her  kerchief  close 
about  her  face,  hid  a  mouth  fresh  and  young 
as  a  half-opened  flower,  murmured  a  word  of 
farewell,  and  passed  out  into  the  sunlight. 
The  Romito's  simple  case  was  quickly  dis 
posed  of. 

"While  you  have  fever  stay  in  bed  and 
fast ;  when  the  fever  leaves  you  keep  out  of 
doors  and  eat  all  the  good  things  Carolina 
brings  you." 

"  I  do  not  say  it  because  she  is  my  dead 
sister's  child,  but  because  it  is  the  truth : 
Carolina  is  a  good,  well-educated  girl,  a  match 
for  any  young  fellow.  She  is  an  orphan,  - 
between  us  two,  that  is  not  a  bad  thing  when 
a  man  is  looking  for  a  wife,  —  she  has  a  good 
bit  of  money,  at  least  four  thousand  francs. 
Sor'  Giacomo  will  leave  all  he  has  to  her  and 

179 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Giulio  —  you  yourself  know  better  than  an 
other  how  long  the  boy  is  likely  to  live  to 
enjoy  his  share.  She  will  have  a  bigger  dowry 
than  any  girl  in  Roccaraso." 

"  Whom  will  she  marry  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 
He  loved  his  people  as  the  shepherds  there 
abouts  love  their  sheep. 

"  She  has  hopes  of  Francesco  the  Sindaco's 
son,  though  nothing  is  settled.  He  has  great 
pretensions  and  is  very  avaricious.  My  niece, 
too,  is  ambitious ;  she  knows  her  worth  and 
wishes  to  make  a  good  marriage.  That  is 
proper  and  natural." 

"  She  is  the  finest  girl  in  ten  villages,"  said 
the  doctor.  "  I  hope  she  will  get  a  good 
husband." 

"  If  you  or  your  Signora  said  as  much  to 
the  Sindaco?" 

"  Excuse  me.  I  have  not  time  to  make 
marriages  ;  besides,  Carolina  deserves  a  better 
husband." 

The  Romito  stared.  "  She  must  go  to 
Naples  to  make  a  better  match,"  he  said. 

"  Bah  !  Francesco  is  small,  puny,  rickety ; 
180 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

has  a  nasty  temper  too.  There  goes  a  man  fit 
for  Carolina,  Diamne  f  What  a  couple  they 
would  make ! " 

The  Romito  limped  to  the  chapel  door  and 
looked  out.  He  saw  a  tall  fellow  swinging 
along  the  road. 

"  That  is  Roffredo  Ferrari,  nephew  of  old 
Ferrari  who  used  to  carry  the  mails  from 
Pescocostanzo  to  Rivisondoli.  When  Rof 
fredo  was  a  boy  the  family  moved  to  North 
America.  The  old  uncle  died  last  summer. 
Roffredo  came  back  to  settle  the  estate.  It 
is  not  to  be  denied  he  is  a  handsome  chap. 
A  thousand  pities  he  is  of  Pescocostanzo." 

"  See,  he  will  overtake  Carolina,"  said  the 
doctor.  "  Are  they  acquainted  ?  " 

"  Who  knows  ?  All  young  men  and  young 
women  are  acquainted  through  the  eyes." 

The  doctor  —  he  was  still  young  —  laughed. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  the  ways  of  the 
young,  Romito." 

"  No  wise  man  ever  forgets  them ;  when  a 
pretty  girl  takes  to  coming  to  the  chapel,  nine 
times  out  of  ten  some  lad  remembers  at  about 

181 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

the  same  time  to  say  his  prayers.     There  is  a 
song  my  mother  used  to  sing  : 

"Mamma,  mamma,  lasciami  andare  la  nella  chiesa  del  buon 

Signore, 
Colla     bocca    faro    preghiera    mentre     cogl'     occhi    faro 


amore  ! 


(Mama,  mama,  let   me   go  to  the  church  of  the  good 

Lord, 
While  I  am  praying  with  the  mouth  I  can  make  love 

with  the  eyes.) 


182 


CAROLINA'S  STREET 


II 

CAROLINA 

CAROLINA  sat  at  her  loom  weaving  a  web 
of  flannel  for  the  Sindaco's  wife.  The  shuttle 
flew  from  one  slim  brown  hand  to  the  other 
with  a  rhythmical  click-clack,  click-clack  that 
annoyed  Giulio  in  his  armchair  by  the  fire. 

"  Art  not  nearly  done  ?  "  he  growled.  "  Thou 
drivest  me  crazy  with  that  noise." 

"  Have  patience,  my  treasure  ;  the  work  is 
almost  finished,"  said  Carolina. 

"  Why  slave  thyself  to  death  for  that  family  ? 
I  don't  half  believe  Francesco  means  to  marry 
thee.  Miser abile  !  Wait  till  I  get  well,  then 
let  me  catch  him  making  eyes  at  thee  !  " 

"  Do  not  excite  thyself,  beloved,  or  thou 
wilt  bring  on  a  coughing  spell." 

"  What  has  the  Sindaco,  or  his  wife,  or  their 
son  ever  done  for  thee  that  thou  shouldst  care 
so  much  more  for  them  than  for  thine  own 
family,  eh  ?  Answer  me  that,  now." 

Carolina's  yarn  snapped,  the  rhythmic  move- 
183 


TWO   IK  ITALY 

ment  of  the  loom  ceased.  "  Sometimes, 
brother  mine,  thou  seemst  more  anxious  for 
the  marriage  than  I  am  myself,"  she  said 
slowly. 

"  What !  thou  dost  not  wish  to  marry  Fran 
cesco,  after  all  the  trouble  I  have  been  at  to 
get  the  precious  fellow  for  thee  ?  Well,  of  all 
the  ingrates ! " 

Carolina  rose  from  her  loom  —  there  was  no 
other  way.  Giulio  was  working  himself  into 
a  frenzy  of  rage,  —  his  usual  method  of  getting 
his  own  way. 

"  Thou  art  right.  I  have  done  enough  for 
to-day,"  she  said  gently.  "  Shall  I  heat  a  cup 
of  milk,  or  beat  up  one  of  these  nice  fresh  eggs 
for  thee?" 

"  Women  think  of  nothing  but  eating ! 
Whatever  ails  a  man  they  imagine  they  can 
satisfy  him  by  feeding  him.  I  hate  the  sight 
of  food,  dost  hear  ?  When  I  am  hungry  I 
will  tell  thee  so." 

Carolina  drew  a  low  stool  to  his  side,  and 
sat  down  to  mend  his  heavy  homespun  coat. 
She  had  helped  her  grandfather  raise  and  shear 

184 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

the  sheep ;  she  had  carded  and  spun  the  wool 
and  woven  the  cloth  for  it.  The  humpbacked 
tailoress,  her  aunt,  who  lived  at  Pescocostanzo, 
had  cut  out  the  coat.  Carolina  herself  had 
made  it  up. 

"Dost  thou  wish  to  aggravate  me  by  the 
sight  of  that  coat  ?  Thou  thyself  saidst  that 
the  air  had  a  touch  of  winter  —  once  let  that 
begin,  and  good-bye  to  my  stirring  out  till  I 
am  well,  or  the  cold  weather  over." 

"  The  doctor  says  if  thou  wilt  go  out  every 
day,  no  matter  what  the  weather  is,  thou  wilt 
not  feel  the  cold.  He  even  desires  thee  to 
sleep  in  the  open  air,"  said  Carolina. 

"  Hangman  of  a  doctor !  If  that  did  not 
kill  me  in  a  week,  't  would  be  a  miracle  worthy 
of  thy  Madonna  of  Pietro  Anzieri.  " 

"  Hush,  oh,  hush  ! "  whispered  Carolina,  as 
she  crossed  herself.  "Where  is  thy  young 
lieutenant  ?  He  who  had  the  cough  ? " 

"  Gone  back  to  Switzerland.  His  life  is 
worth  saving  —  he  is  a  fine  young  imbecile, 
but  he  is  a  gentleman.  My  life  !  Who  cares 
whether  I  live  or  die  ?  The  sooner  I  am  under 

185 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

the  sod  the  better  for  a  girl  whose  dote  is  not 
large  enough  to  satisfy  that  miserly  cabbage- 
head  Francesco." 

"Switzerland — yes,  that  was  the  name." 
She  repeated  the  word  over  and  over. 

"If  those  children  —  may  they  die  of  an 
apoplexy !  —  would  only  be  quiet,  I  might  get 
a  nap  now.  Thou  and  the  grandfather  made 
such  a  noise  last  night  I  did  not  close  an  eye. 
It  is  perfectly  heartless  to  snore  so  when  thou 
know'st  it  keeps  me  awake." 

Carolina  made  his  ungracious  head  comfort 
able  with  a  pillow,  covered  him  with  a  blanket, 
and  went  out  into  the  street.  On  the  steps  of 
the  opposite  house  sat  the  midwife,  a  newly 
swaddled  infant  on  her  knees.  Her  three- 
year-old  daughter  stood  beside  her  hugging  a 
doll  in  swaddling  clothes.  Tina,  Carolina's 
little  cousin,  came  toddling  over  the  round 
slippery  cobblestones  to  meet  her.  Carolina 
fitted  a  pad  upon  her  head  and  balanced  her 
bronze  concha  upon  it. 

"  Who  goes  with  me  to  draw  water  at  the 
fountain  ?  "  she  cried. 

186 


THE  SIXDACO'S  HOUSE 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

There  was  a  chorus  of  "  I,  and  I,  and  I,"  and 

of  "Wait  for  me,  Carolina ! "  as  the  children 
left  their  play  and  flocked  about  Carolina.  In 
two  minutes  the  street  was  empty,  save  for 
the  midwife  dozing  on  the  steps ;  she  could 
be  trusted  not  to  make  a  noise  as  long  as  the 
baby  slept  on  her  knee. 

Roccaraso  has  two  social  centres,  —  the 
fountain  where  the  women  congregate,  and  the 
church  steps  where  the  men  foregather.  Caro 
lina  placed  her  concha  on  the  worn  pink  gran 
ite  curb  of  the  fountain,  sat  down  on  the  stone 
bench  below,  and  unpinned  her  knitting  from 
her  rich  braids  of  hair  hidden  by  the  fazzoletto. 
The  children  hovered  about  her  like  butterflies 
over  a  flower-bed. 

The  Sindaco's  house  —  the  best  in  the  village 
—  stands  opposite  the  fountain.  A  small  door 
opens  into  the  underground  cellar  where  the 
sheep  live  in  winter ;  a  handsome  stone  stair 
way  leads  to  the  front  door  high  above  the 
street.  The  carving  of  the  marble  balustrade, 
the  shape  of  the  windows,  the  elegance  of  the 
remaining  bits  of  cornice,  prove  that  it  was 

187 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

built  before  the  rape  of  the  Pescocostanzans 
(they  carried  off  a  daughter  of  the  house), 
since  when  the  family  bleaches  its  linen  at 
home  —  witness  the  sheet  of  creamy  home 
spun  linen  spread  over  the  marble  balustrade. 

The  Sindaco's  wife,  seeing  Carolina  from  the 
window,  joined  her  at  the  fountain. 

"  You  are  early,  my  dear,"  she  said ;  "  how 
have  you  got  on  with  my  flannel  to-day  ? " 

"  Not  so  well  as  usual ;  my  loom  is  out  of 
order.  Better  luck  to-morrow ;  you  shall  not 
be  kept  waiting  for  it,  Matrina  "  (godmother). 

"  I  saw  the  doctor  coming  out  of  your  house 
yesterday.  What  did  he  say  about  Giulio  ? " 

The  anxious  look  the  children  had  driven 
away  from  Carolina's  face  came  back  like  a 
cloud  before  the  sun. 

"  He  says  that  while  there  is  life  there  is  hope." 

"Then  your  brother  will  not  live  through 
the  winter.  They  told  me  that  one  month 
before  my  daughter  died." 

"  Santa  Maria  !     You  believe  it  ? " 

"  I  have  long  feared  it.  Resign  yourself, 
my  child,  to  the  will  of  God." 

188 


HERMIT   OF   PIETRO   ANZIERI 

"  Switzerland  ! "  said  Carolina  ;  she  had  been 
trying  to  remember  that  hard  word.  Her 
needles  clicked  "  Switzerland  !  "  the  fountain 
rippled  "  Switzerland  ! "  every  beat  of  her  true 
heart  throbbed  "  Switzerland  !  " 

"  Francesco  should  be  back  from  the  fair  at 
Castel  di  Sangro  soon  ;  if  he  passes  this  way  say 
that  I  wish  to  see  him  before  he  goes  after  the 
sheep." 

"  Surely,  Matrina,"  Carolina  replied. 

A  few  minutes  later  when  Francesco  came 
up  she  did  not  see  him ;  her  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  stocking  she  was  knitting  for  Giulio ;  her 
thoughts  were  far  away.  Francesco  stood 
looking  at  her,  waiting  till  she  should  be  aware 
of  his  presence. 

Roffredo  Ferrari,  American  citizen,  sitting 
on  the  church  steps  watching  through  half- 
closed  eyelids,  saw  all  this. 

"  I  promised  to  be  a  little  mother  to  him," 
said  Carolina,  unconscious  of  both  men's  eyes, 
unconscious  that  she  had  spoken  aloud. 

"  To  whom  did  you  make  that  promise  ? " 

Carolina  looked  up  with  a  start.  "  Is  that 
189 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

you,  Francesco  ?  Matrina  wishes  to  speak 
with  you.  I  was  only  saying  that  when  my 
mother  died  I  promised  her  to  be  a  little 
mother  to  Giulio." 

"So  you  have  been.  Does  he  deny  it? 
Was  it  your  fault  his  regiment  was  ordered  to 
Africa  —  that  he  got  sick  there  ? " 

"  It  is  as  the  blacksmith  says,"  murmured 
Roffredo,  apparently  asleep  in  the  sunshine 
on  the  church  steps.  "  Carolina  does  not  look 
at  that  peacock  Francesco  with  the  eyes  of 
love.  As  for  him,  he  is  a  stone  ;  he  thinks  only 
of  her  money ;  may  he  die  of  an  accident ! " 

On  the  morning  when  RofFredo  first  saw  Car 
olina  coming  out  of  the  hermitage  chapel  Love 
descended  upon  him  like  a  whirlwind,  and 
she, —  the  beloved,  for  whose  sake  only  life  was 
desirable, —  she  never  even  looked  at  him.  He 
hung  about  Roccaraso  half  the  day,  made 
friends  with  the  blacksmith,  to  whom  he 
promised  to  sell  (on  his  departure  for  New 
York)  the  old  flea-bitten  gray  horse  inherited 
from  his  uncle,  and  the  squash-colored  phaeton 
—  the  pride  of  Pescocostanzo,  the  envy  of  Roc- 

190 


HERMIT   OF   PIETRO  ANZIERI 

caraso  —  that  carried  the  mails  from  Pescoco 
stanzo  to  Rivisondoli.  At  night  RofFredo  sat 
opposite  Sor'  Giacomo's  cottage  watching  the 
window  of  the  room  where  instinct  told  him 
Carolina  lay. 

After  listening  to  Francesco  for  a  few  minutes, 
Carolina  rose,  filled  the  concha,  swung  it  with  a 
grand  free  movement  to  her  head,  and  strode 
down  the  steep  street,  a  lovely  living  caryatid. 

"  Felice  notte"  she  said  kindly  to  Francesco. 

"  Felidssima  notte,  Carolina  ! " 

RofFredo  had  gained  during  his  thirteen  years 
in  New  York  something  more  than  American 
citizenship, — he  had  gained  a  little  of  the  Amer 
ican  spirit.  Since  his  return  to  Pescocostanzo 
this  spirit  had  made  itself  felt  in  a  fine  dis 
regard  of  traditions,  a  confidence  in  his  ability 
to  settle  his  own  affairs  without  the  advice  of 
the  Pescocostanzo  graybeards.  Until  he  had 
seen  Carolina  he  had  carried  things  with  a  high 
hand  ;  now  everything  was  changed. 

"  Too  proud  even  to  look  at  me/'  he  groaned. 

"  Pazienza  !  the  time  will  come  when  I  will 
make  her  see  me ! " 

191 


Ill 

THE    FESTIVAL   OF    THE   MADONNA 

THE  festa  of  the  Madonna  of  Pietro  Anzieri 
was  celebrated  with  great  pomp.  The  hermit 
age  chapel  was  hung  with  crimson  brocade 
draperies,  decorated  with  flowers  and  green 
boughs  ;  there  were  many  candles  on  the  altar 
and  in  the  fine  crystal  chandelier  —  brought  all 
the  way  from  Isernia  for  the  festa.  A  new 
silver  crown  was  tacked  to  the  canvas  of  the 
miraculous  picture,  over  the  Madonna's  head. 
The  priest  from  Roccaraso  celebrated  high 
mass  at  half-past  ten,  the  Romito  serving.  He 
wore  a  clean  white  linen  cotta,  trimmed  with 
handsome  lace  ;  the  altar  cloth  was  bordered 
with  lace  of  the  same  pattern.  The  Sindaco's 
wife  recognized  Carolina's  handiwork.  She  was 
not  a  devout  woman.  The  sight  of  the  lace  and 
linen  from  the  big  marriage  chest  that  held 
Carolina's  corredo  made  her  angry ;  she  re 
garded  these  things  as  belonging  already  to 
Francesco. 

is  193 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Outside  the  chapel  Roffredo,  with  waxed 
moustachios,  a  suit  of  Bowery  clothes,  and  a  red 
rose  behind  his  ear,  looked  with  an  indulgent 
eye  on  the  preparations  for  the  festa.  Red  and 
white  curtains  hung  before  the  door  and  across 
the  facade.  Little  bundles  of  twisted  brown 
paper  filled  with  gunpowder  and  tied  together 
by  white  string  were  laid  six  inches  apart  all 
the  way  down  the  hill  leading  to  the  hermitage. 
At  twelve  o'clock  a  procession  headed  by  the 
priest  marched  out  into  the  sunlight.  The 
Romito  walked  next,  carrying  a  blue  satin 
banner  embroidered  with  a  representation  of 
the  picture.  He  was  preceded  by  a  group  of 
little  girls  scattering  flowers.  Then  came  the 
miraculous  picture  borne  on  the  shoulders  of 
six  stalwart  peasants.  The  choir  of  men  and 
boys  followed.  The  women  and  girls  brought 
up  the  rear.  As  the  Madonna  appeared  at  the 
door  the  train  was  fired,  and  the  little  paper 
bundles  banged,  banged  in  her  honor.  Roffredo 
had  applied  too  late  for  the  position  of  bearer ; 
the  places  had  been  long  engaged,  the  privilege 
paid  for.  When  they  reached  the  stone  pine, 

194 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

half-way  between  the  hermitage  and  the  church 
of  Roccaraso,  the  blacksmith,  who  was  the 
last  of  the  bearers,  made  a  sign  to  Roffredo. 
Roffredo,  straightening  his  broad  shoulders, 
throwing  out  his  chest,  strutting  like  a  peacock, 
slipped  into  the  blacksmith's  place.  Though 
he  did  not  look  behind,  he  was  sure  Carolina 
saw  him,  and  the  step  with  which  he  trod  the 
dusty  road  had  a  suggestion  of  the  American 
cake  walk. 

Carolina,  at  the  very  end  of  the  queue,  a 
child  tugging  at  each  hand,  was  dressed  in  her 
best  homespun  skirt  and  blue  bodice.  She 
wore  her  mother's  gold  earrings  and  coral 
beads. 

When  the  procession  had  marched  around 
the  village  square,  escorted  the  Madonna  to 
make  her  annual  visit  to  the  church  of  Roc 
caraso,  returned  to  the  hermitage  and  restored 
the  miraculous  picture  to  its  place,  the  congre 
gation  melted  away.  The  Sindaco's  wife  waited 
outside  the  hermitage  for  Carolina,  who  re 
mained  kneeling  before  the  altar  after  the  rest 
had  gone. 

195 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

Carolina  was  very  tired.  Giulio  had  had  a 
bad  night,  and  she  had  hardly  slept.  Before 
him  she  had  only  brave  smiles;  here  in  the 
chapel  she  was  free  to  weep  her  heart  out. 
The  memory  of  her  mother  mingled  itself  and 
became  confused  with  her  thought  of  Mary  of 
the  seven  sorrows.  She  could  not  have  told 
whether  she  spoke  to  her  own  mother  or  to  the 
mother  of  Christ. 

"If  it  be  your  wish  that  the  money  be 
drawn  from  the  bank,  that  the  land  be  sold, 
that  my  brother  should  go  to  Switzerland — let 
there  be  a  sign ! " 

She  raised  her  misty  eyes  to  the  miraculous 
picture;  the  resemblance  to  her  mother  had 
never  before  been  so  strong.  The  midday  sun 
brought  out  the  tarnished  gold  halo  from  the 
dark  background  and  lighted  the  Madonna's 
face.  To  Carolina's  longing  eyes  the  miracu 
lous  picture  smiled. 

Her  prayer  was  answered. 


196 


IV 

LOVE   AT    FIRST    SIGHT 

WHEN  Carolina  came  to  the  chapel  door,  her 
face  wore  an  expression  the  Sindaco's  wife 
had  never  before  seen. 

"Buona  festa,  Matrina"  she  said  gently. 

Something  had  happened  to  Carolina;  she 
had  a  look  of  high  resolve  the  godmother 
could  not  understand.  The  lecture  upon  the 
extravagance  of  wasting  lace  and  fine  linen  on 
the  Romito  was  postponed.  Francesco  might 
dream  of  a  more  ambitious  marriage,  a  bride 
with  a  larger  dote,  —  his  mother  meant  to  have 
Carolina  for  her  daughter-in-law. 

"  If  the  girl  has  a  fault,"  she  told  the  Sindaco, 
"  she  is  a  little  too  handsome ;  for  all  that  she 
is  less  vain  than  many  a  plain  girl." 

RofFredo  Ferrari,  loitering  in  the  hermitage 
graveyard,  knew  —  he  could  not  have  ex 
plained  how  —  the  exact  moment  when  the 
heavy  leather  curtain  was  lifted  and  Carolina 
appeared  on  the  threshold.  He  swayed  to- 

197 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

wards  her  as  a  tall  tree  is  bent  by  a  strong 
wind.  His  eyes  hungry  for  the  sight  devoured 
her  face  like  a  flame ;  he  felt  himself  grow  cold. 

"  So  might  the  blessed  Virgin  herself  have 
looked!"  he  murmured. 

Carolina's  eyes  met  his  eyes,  and  for  the  first 
time  she  understood  what  they  said.  She 
missed  a  step  and  stumbled;  Roffredo  sprang 
forward,  caught  her  arm,  and  for  one  rapturous 
moment  steadied  her  while  she  regained  her 
balance.  The  silvery  light  in  her  face  slowly 
changed  to  deep  red,  as  if  the  full  moon  had 
turned  into  the  sun. 

"A  thousand  thanks,  sir,"  she  said  gently. 

He  hesitated  for  a  word.  Before  he  found 
it  she  was  far  down  the  road  walking  with  the 
Sindaco's  wife. 

""She  has  seen  —  at  last !  She  has  spoken  !  " 
He  raised  his  arm  above  his  head  with  a  ges 
ture  of  exultation. 

"Hein?  What  did  you  say?"  said  the 
Romito,  sourly. 

"That  I  wish  to  make  a  small  offering, 
frate  !  "  Roffredo  dropped  a  piece  of  money 

198 


HERMIT   OF   PIETRO   ANZIERI 

into  the  battered  Japanned  tin  box  hanging  by 
a  strap  from  the  Romito's  birdlike  neck ;  the 
old  man  caught  the  flash  of  the  silver  coin 
as  it  disappeared.  It  was  long  since  any  but 
copper  coin  had  rattled  in  his  box,  —  and, 
mirabile  dictu,  the  silver  piece  was  offered  by 
a  Pescocostanzan  ! 


199 


AN   AMERICAN   WOOING 


THE  government  doctor  lived  at  Castel  di 
Sangro.  He  would  have  preferred  to  live  at 
Roccaraso,  where  the  view  is  better,  the  air 
finer,  the  water  purer.  His  wife  —  she  was  a 
Roman  —  said  that  people  meant  more  to  her 
than  trees  or  mountains ;  that  one  air  was  as 
good  as  another  ;  that  she  never  drank  water  ; 
if  he  must  bury  her  alive,  let  it  be  in  a  decent 
market  town  like  Castel  di  Sangro,  not  an  in 
accessible  mountain  fastness  like  Roccaraso. 

The  sun  had  set  when  the  doctor  tied  his 
horse  at  the  gate  of  Roccaraso.  He  had  been 
riding  all  day  from  village  to  village  and  had 
come  home  late,  to  find  a  summons  from 
Carolina. 

"  Why  do  you  go  ?  You  can  do  nothing  for 
that  poor  fellow  Giulio,  and  you  are  so  tired," 
his  wife  said  when  she  gave  him  the  message. 

"Perhaps  I  may  do  something,"  said  the 
doctor. 

201 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

The  best  remedy  he  brought  to  the  three- 
roomed  whitewashed  cottage,  with  its  floor  of 
trodden  earth,  was  the  cordial  of  human  kind 
ness.  He  sat  and  talked  to  Carolina  and 
Giulio  till  the  wine  of  his  strength  was  all 
out  of  the  bottle. 

He  came  out  into  the  moonlight  to  find  the 
familiar  figure  of  a  man  hiding  in  the  shadow 
of  the  opposite  house.  The  doctor  was. very 
tired ;  he  had  stood  that  day  at  the  doors  of 
life  and  of  death,  and  watched  the  passing  of  a 
soul  through  each  ;  he  was  in  no  mood  to  make 
allowances  for  love's  madness.  He  walked 
quickly,  turned  into  the  next  street,  faced 
hastily  about  and  waited  for  his  man,  who, 
coming  hastily  around  the  corner,  ran  plump 
into  his  arms. 

"  Stand  back  !  Who  are  you,  and  why  do  you 
follow  me  ? "  the  doctor  fiercely  demanded. 

"  The  streets  are  free  to  all,  I  believe,"  was 
the  haughty  answer. 

"  Not  to  an  armed  man  who  skulks  behind  a 
physician  when  he  visits  the  sick.  My  Signora 
has  heard  of  your  conduct,  my  fine  fellow; 

202 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

to-morrow  she  will   complain   of  you  to  the 
Sindaco." 

"  Your  Signora  !    The  Signor  Dottore  is  mar 
ried,  then  ?     It  is  truly  to  see  the  sick  man  he 
goes  so  often  to  Sor'  Giacomo's  house  ?  " 
"  For  what  other  reason  should  I  go  ? " 
"  I  thought  it  might  be  to  see  Carolina." 
"  And  if  it  were,  what  is  Carolina  to  you  ?  " 
"  Ah,  saints  and  apostles,  hear  him  !    She  is 
heaven,  she  is  hell ;  she  is  all  that  there  is  in 
this  world  or  the  next." 

The  doctor  softened.  "  So  you  are  in  love 
with  Carolina  ?  Did  you  come  from  America 
to  look  for  a  wife  ? " 

"Sir,  to  be  frank  with  you,  the  thought 
never  occurred  to  me.  My  uncle  having  died 
and  made  me  his  heir,  I  came  back  to  Italy  to 
claim  my  inheritance." 

"  You  will  remain  in  Pescocostanzo  ? " 
RofFredo  threw  back  his  great  head  and 
laughed.  "  7  remain  in  Pescocostanzo  ?  No, 
no.  This  country  is  too  slow  for  me.  If  it  were 
not  for  that  girl  I  should  be  in  New  York  this 
minute.  I  am  in  the  fruit  business  there,  sir. 

203 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

Yes,  I  have  done  very  well ;  my  partner  will 
doubtless  steal  all  my  money  and  run  away  if  I 
do  not  return  soon.  I  do  not  care.  All  places 
are  alike  to  me  now.  Here  I  sometimes  catch 
a  glimpse  of  Carolina,  though  I  cannot  get  a 
word  with  her.  The  Sindaco's  wife  watches 
her  as  a  cat  watches  a  mouse.  All  the  same  I 
believe  Carolina  is  not  quite  indifferent  to  me." 
He  twirled  his  moustache,  straightened  his 
shoulders,  and  seemed  in  the  moonlight  to 
grow  an  inch  taller.  "  If  you,  sir,  would  use 
your  influence  ?  That  animal  Francesco  is 
not  worthy  to  tie  her  shoe  ;  besides —  he  is  not 
simpatico  to  her." 

"  Carolina  is  going  away  from  Roccaraso 
very  soon,"  said  the  doctor. 

"  Maria  !  Does  she  go  out  to  service  or  to 
a  convent  ?  " 

"  Neither  ;  she  is  going  on  a  long  journey 
with  her  brother.  Later,  my  wife  will  find 
her  a  situation  in  Rome." 

"  It  is  true,  then,  what  the  blacksmith  says. 
Carolina  thinks  that  by  selling  her  property 
and  taking  Giulio  to  Switzerland,  she  can  save 

204 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO   ANZIERI 

her  brother's  life  ?    Is  it  right  to  let  her  do  this 
thing  when  the  man  has  death  in  his  face  ? " 

"  The  Sindaco's  wife  says  it  is  not  right. 
The  Romito  wishes  Carolina  to  lay  out  the 
money  in  restoring  the  hermitage  chapel.  He 
says  a  miracle  might  be  worked  and  Giulio's 
health  restored  ;  in  any  case,  even  if  nothing 
came  of  it,  the  money  would  be  spent  among 
our  own  people." 

"  You,  a  physician,  allow  that  angel  to  sacri 
fice  her  little  fortune  for  that  poor,  diseased 
Giulio  ?  What  use  is  he  to  the  world  ?  " 

"  Carolina  has  as  much  right  to  buy  a  few 
more  months  of  life  for  Giulio  as  if  she  were 
a  queen." 

"  Money  comes  and  goes  easily  with  you 
gentlefolks.  We  peasants  —  "  Roffredo  began. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  marry  Carolina  ? "  the 
doctor  interrupted  impatiently. 

"  That  is  the  most  ardent  desire  of  my  soul." 

"  Can  you  support  a  wife  ?  " 

"  I  can  do  my  share." 

"  Would  you  still  wish  to  marry  Carolina  if 
she  had  not  a  penny  ? " 

205 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

"  Carolina  is  not  poor." 

"  Listen  !  If  you  want  a  wife  with  property, 
come  no  more  to  Roccaraso." 

"  I  cannot  understand,"  said  RofFredo. 

"  Ah,  well !  You  do  not  know  the  Sindaco's 
wife.  That  old  cat  wants  her  Francesco  to 
marry  Carolina.  She  has  great  influence  with 
the  girl  and  with  the  grandfather,  Sor'  Gia- 
como.  Carolina  owns  three  fields,  the  cottage 
in  which  she  lives,  and  four  thousand  francs 
invested  in  the  rendita  "  (Government  bonds). 
"  While  Carolina  owns  that  property  do  you 
suppose  the  Sindaco's  wife  will  allow  her  to 
marry  any  man  except  Francesco  ?  But  let 
Carolina  spend  all  her  money  in  trying  to 
prolong  Giulio's  life,  Francesco  will  refuse  to 
marry  her.  Your  only  chance  of  getting  the 
girl  is  to  let  the  dote  go." 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  Roffredo,  "  but, 
Corpo  di  Baccho  !  it  is  a  high  price  to  pay." 

"  Nothing  that  is  worth  having  is  cheap." 
said  the  doctor.  "  Buona  notte,  go  home  and 
think  it  over.  If  you  find  the  price  too  high 
take  the  next  steamer  for  North  America." 

206 


HERMIT   OF   PIETRO   ANZIERI 

"  Grazie,  e  scusi,  Signor  Dottore,  e  buon 
riposo"  said  Roffredo. 

They  parted  at  the  crumbling  gateway  of 
Roccaraso,  —  the  doctor  to  ride  along  the 
white  highroad  to  Castel  di  Sangro  ;  RofFredo 
to  walk  through  the  valley  where  the  golden 
gorse  grows,  and  over  the  heathery  hillside 
that  leads  to  Pescocostanzo. 


207 


VI 

SOWING 

IT  was  a  blue  and  gold  September  day ;  the  air 
was  intoxicating  with  the  rich  savors  of  the 
harvest.  Carolina  was  at  work  in  her  little 
triangular  patch  of  ground  on  the  sloping  hill 
side  above  the  Rasino.  Here,  in  the  spring, 
she  had  planted  corn,  wheat,  potatoes,  peas, 
and  beans ;  through  the  hot  summer  she  had 
faithfully  weeded  the  soil  and  kept  the  vege 
tables  free  from  insects.  She  had  dug  the 
potatoes,  threshed  the  chaff  from  the  grain, 
dried  and  shelled  the  peas  and  beans,  and  put 
all  safely  away  in  the  upper  chamber  of  the 
cottage,  against  the  coming  of  the  long  winter. 
She  had  chosen  this  fine  day,  when  the  air  had 
a  dash  of  the  elixir  of  the  first  cold,  to  plough 
the  field  for  the  winter  wheat. 

She  usually  sang  at  her  work,  to-day  she 

was  silent ;  there  were  hard   lines   about  her 

mouth,  a  scowl  on  her  forehead.     This  land, 

which  for  centuries  her  forbears  had  tilled,  was 

u  209 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

to  be  sold  ;  the  sacrifice  had  never  seemed  so 
great  before.  Dead  hands  reached  out  from 
the  grave  and  clutched  at  the  land  —  hers  by 
the  bitter  toil,  the  grinding  economies  of  gener 
ations  of  peasants. 

What  she  sowed  another  would  reap  ;  the 
thought  struck  cold  upon  her.  If  she  could 
be  sure  of  seeing  Giulio  strong  and  well  again, 
nothing  would  matter,  but  if  he  should  die 
and  the  sacrifice  be  all  in  vain  ? 

So  the  devil  —  or  her  forefathers  —  tempted 
her. 

"  Mammna,  mammina  !  "  (little  mamma). 
She  threw  a  supplicatory  hand  above  her 
head. 

"  Ah  !  bestia  infame ! "  (infamous  beast). 
She  knocked  her  forehead  with  her  closed  fist, 
spat  upon  the  ground,  and  grasped  the  handles 
of  the  plough. 

"  Courage,  my  girl,  courage  ! "  she  cried. 

Ploughing  had  never  seemed  such  hard  work 
before ;  when  she  had  finished  a  third  of  the 
triangle  she  stopped,  rested  her  arms  on  the 
plough,  and  stood  looking  down  into  the  new- 

210 


HERMIT   OF   PIETRO   ANZIERI 

turned  furrow  of  moist  brown  earth.  She  did 
not  hear  Roffredo's  footsteps  as  he  came  to 
wards  her ;  they  were  deadened  by  the  soft 
loam.  The  handled  of  the  plough  were  taken 
from  her  hands,  and  a  strange  voice  said,  - 

"  Give  me  the  plough ;  this  is  no  woman's 
work.'' 

"  No,  no,  sir !  What  an  idea !  I  only 
stopped  a  moment  to  take  breath." 

Roffredo  threw  all  his  weight  against  the 
handles.  The  soil  was  stubborn ;  the  plough 
needed  sharpening.  At  first  he  drove  it  clum 
sily  enough.  Carolina  followed  him  step  by 
step,  remonstrating. 

That  was  a  spur ;  the  work  began  to  go 
better. 

"  There,  that  will  do.  What  you  have  done 
will  be  a  great  help.  One  sees  that  you  have  not 
the  habit  of  working  in  the  fields.  You  will  feel 
the  sun  on  your  head,"  Carolina  besought. 

"  Peace !  When  the  work  is  done  we  will 
talk,"  Roffredo  answered  firmly. 

Carolina's  eyes  opened  wide  at  the  tone  of 
authority. 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

The  last  furrow  ploughed,  Roffredo  tossed 
back  his  brown  curls,  wiped  the  sweat  from  his 
forehead,  and  joined  Carolina  sitting  on  a  large 
stone  at  the  edge  of  the  field. 

"  Now  let  us  talk,"  he  said. 

"Willingly."  As  she  made  no  room  for 
him  on  the  stone,  he  threw  himself  on  the 
ground  beside  her. 

"  Look  at  me,"  he  begged  of  her.  With  a 
blush  like  the  dawn  she  turned  her  eyes  (they 
were  like  cool,  brown  agates)  to  his. 

"  Carolina,  you  are  as  beautiful  as  the  Ma 
donna  ;  perhaps  you  are  as  good,  who  knows  ? 
You  have  no  parents.  Sor'  Giacomo,  your 
grandfather,  is  childish ;  your  brother  is  ill ; 
your  godmother  wishes  to  poison  me.  In  the 
country  where  I  come  from,"  he  pointed  with 
a  large  gesture  to  the  west,  "  the  young  people 
settle  these  things  for  themselves  ;  it  is  perhaps 
the  better  way.  Carolina,  will  you  have  me 
for  your  husband  ?  " 

"  Ma  che?  said  Carolina,  "  do  not  jest  about 
serious  things." 

"Listen,  my  angel,  and  do  not  interrupt. 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

Nothing  could  be  more  serious.  When  the 
doctor  comes  this  afternoon  ask  him  freely 
of  me.  I  have  opened  my  heart  to  him ;  he 
knows  my  circumstances ;  he  will  tell  you  if 
you  may  with  discretion  accept  me." 

"  Roffredo,  you  are  a  stranger." 

"  You  know  my  name  ? " 

"  My  aunt  the  tailoress  —  she  with  the  hump 
—  lives  at  Pescocostanzo.  I  know  something 
of  you,"  she  began  to  explain. 

"One  thing  you  cannot  know,  amore  ma 
bella  —  because  the  words  are  not  yet  invented 
strong  enough  to  tell  —  how  I  love  you! 
Pazienza,  I  will  show  you  some  day." 

"  Love !  It  is  so  easy  to  talk  of  love  to  a 
girl.  We  have  not  spoken  till  to-day :  it  would 
be  a  miracle." 

"Don't  you  know  love  is  the  greatest 
miracle  ?  The  first  time  I  saw  you,  you  had 
been  praying  the  Madonna  for  a  miracle. 
Well,  she  has  shown  you  the  greatest  of 
all!" 

"Roffredo,  as  you  have  guessed,  I  am  not 
quite  indifferent  to  you.  If  I  were  free  — but 

213 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

I  am  not.  I  have  vowed  to  devote  my  life  to 
my  poor  sick  brother. " 

"  Carolina,  hear  me.  I  will  respect  that  vow. 
I  will  help  to  care  for  your  brother." 

"  No,  no,  it  is  not  possible." 

"  To-morrow  the  furrow  will  be  ready  for  the 
seed  ;  when  you  come  to  plant  I  shall  be  here." 

"  No,  no ! "  Still  she  lingered.  In  the  end 
it  was  Roffredo  who  bade  her  go. 

"Depart  now,"  he  said,  "or  that  old  cat, 
your  godmother,  will  wonder  what  has  kept 
you  so  long." 

"  AHmd!  I  am  a  wicked  wretch.  It  is  late 
for  Giulio's  soup,"  Carolina  cried. 

She  ran  lightly  down  the  hill,  through  the 
meadow  where  the  linen  lay  bleaching  in  the 
sun,  disappeared  in  the  thicket,  coming  out 
on  the  other  side  with  a  huge  load  of  fagots  on 
her  head. 

Now  she  moved  slowly,  with  the  cautious 
step  of  the  burden  bearer.  Warily,  painfully 
she  tested  every  step,  planting  her  feet  solidly 
among  the  rolling  stones  of  the  steep  path  that 
leads  from  the  valley  to  the  town  gate. 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

In  his  childhood  Roffredo  had  often  seen 
his  old  grandmother,  his  mother,  his  little 
sisters  carrying  fagots  and  thought  nothing  of 
it.  His  point  of  view  had  changed ;  a  deep 
satisfying  oath  rumbled  from  the  neighborhood 
of  his  boots: 

"  Dogs  and  sons  of  dogs,  to  use  your  women 
so!  The  men  of  Pescocostanz'  did  well  to 
carry  off  the  girls  from  such  as  you  —  may  you 
all  die  squashed  1 " 


215 


VII 

AMOR   OMNIA   VINCET 

THE  cold  fell  early  that  year;  before  Septem 
ber  was  gone  the  nights  grew  chill  and  Giulio 
grew  worse.  Preparations  for  departure  began 
in  earnest.  Roffredo,  now  openly  Carolina's 
suitor,  found  her  one  morning  on  her  knees 
before  an  old  hair-covered  trunk  studded  with 
brass-headed  nails.  An  immense  green  carpet 
bag,  flowered  with  red  roses,  was  already 
packed  with  her  belongings. 

"  You  are  really  going  ? "  cried  Roffredo. 

"  She  will  have  it  so,"  said  poor  Giulio,  his 
eyes  bright  with  the  hope  of  life.  "Nothing 
satisfies  this  foolish  one  but  to  take  me  to 
Davos-Platz/' 

"  You  have  a  good  sister." 

"She  knows  there  is  really  nothing  serious 
the  matter  with  me.  That  good  Swiss  air  will 
soon  set  me  up.  This  is  a  vile  climate,  as  you 
yourself  know." 

"  I  have  heard  you  say  that  it  did  not 
217 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

suit  you,"  Roffredo  murmured.  Carolina  had 
warned  him  that  Giulio  must  never  be  contra 
dicted  ;  a  difference  of  opinion  always  brought 
on  a  coughing  spell.  "  It  is  a  long  journey," 

"  The  longer  it  is  the  further  it  will  take  me 
from  this  hole,"  said  Giulio.  Roffredo,  watch 
ing  Carolina,  saw  her  blanch  at  the  words  "a 
long  journey." 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  the 
Sindaco's  wife  bounced  into  the  room,  red 
with  anger  at  the  news  the  midwife  had 
brought  her  that  Carolina  was  actually  pack 
ing  up  to  go. 

"You  are  really  going  ?  Alas  !  if  your  poor 
mother  were  only  alive !  It  is  madness  ;  it  is 
ruin !  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  a 
young  woman  going  travelling  alone  with  a 
young  man.  What  will  people  think  ?  It  is 
not  respectable ! " 

"  My  grandfather  is  willing ;  Giulio  desires 
to  go ;  it  is  only  you,  dear  Matrina,  who  ob 
ject.  I  am  sorry  to  distress  you,  but  I  know 
from  the  blessed  Virgin  herself  that  my  mother 
in  Paradise  who  sees  and  hears  me  wishes 

218 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

me    to    go    to     Switzerland    with    my    poor 
Giulio." 

"  Sor'  Giacomo  is  no  better  than  a  child ;  as 
to  that  government  doctor,  I  have  my  opinion 
of  him.  What  does  he  mean  by  coming  pok 
ing  his  nose  into  our  affairs,  taking  the  part  of 
an  unreasonable  boy  and  a  foolish  girl ! " 

Giulio  (his  chief  pleasure  in  life  was  to  bait 
the  Sindaco's  wife)  said  to  her  innocently, 
"  You  ought  to  feel  for  me !  You  remember 
that  I  was  once  as  strong  as  RofFredo  here 
—  see  what  muscles  he  has,  a  perfect  ox  of  a 
man  —  I  believe  I  could  have  thrashed  him  in 
those  days.  But  your  Francesco  was  always 
puny  and  rickety.  I  remember  my  mother 
(of  blessed  memory)  making  me  promise  not 
to  let  the  other  boys  hurt  him.  Ah  !  I  have 
fought  many  a  battle  on  his  account." 

At  that  moment  Francesco  coming  in  shook 
his  fist  in  the  sick  man's  face. 

"  So  you  are  taking  Carolina  away,  just  as 
we  were  going  to  arrange  things  comfortably 
between  us  ?  Suppose  anything  should  happen 
to  you,  what  would  become  of  her  ? " 

219 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Carolina  was  for  once  off  guard.  She  had 
stepped  into  the  street  and  was  talking  with 
Roffredo. 

"After  all  she  has  done  for  you  a  pretty 
gratitude  you  show!"  scolded  the  Sindaco's 
wife. 

"Do  you  suppose  I  would  go  if  I  were  not 
perfectly  sure  I  should  recover  my  health  in 
Switzerland?"  growled  Giulio.  "Until  Caro 
lina  has  a  husband  it  is  my  duty  to  take  care 
of  her  ;  to  do  this  I  must  first  get  well." 

"How  will  she  get  a  husband  if  you  take 
her  away  to  this  strange  place?" 

"  When  a  bridegroom  comes  to  claim  her  I 
will  talk  with  him,"  said  Giulio,  sourly. 

"If  you  reduce  your  sister  to  beggary,  where 
can  she  hope  to  find  a  bridegroom  ? "  cried  the 
woman  in  a  great  passion. 

"Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Giulio  ;  "  so  that's  the 
matter  ?  You  grudge  me  my  life  !  You  wish 
to  hurry  me  to  my  grave  that  you  may  enjoy 
my  inheritance  I  Truly,  a  nice  family  to 
marry  into.  Dost  thou  hear,  Carolina  ? 
Francesco  and  his  mother  desire  us  to  remain 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

in  Roccaraso,  so  that  when  the  "  white  "  comes 
and  the  earth  freezes  thou  mayst  put  me 
under  it  and  he  may  make  merry  spending 
my  money." 

Carolina  ran  to  his  side,  stroked  his  hand, 
wiped  the  sweat  from  his  forehead. 

"  Do  not  agitate  thyself,  amor  mio.  Ma- 
trina,  I  think  you  had  better  go,"  she  said. 
"  He  does  not  know  what  he  says  when  he  is 
angry.  Do  not  remember  it  against  him." 

Without  another  word  the  Sindaco's  wife 
and  son  flung  angrily  out  of  the  cottage. 

"  Good  riddance  to  bad  rubbish ! "  Giulio 
called  after  them.  "Carolina,  at  what  time 
didst  thou  say  our  train  started  ? " 

"  At  noon  to-morrow,  my  treasure.  Drink 
this  good  milk  and  cognac  now  and  eat  a  good 
supper,  so  as  to  sleep  well  and  be  strong  for 
the  journey." 

Roffredo,  watching  the  sister  and  brother 
from  the  doorway,  groaned  at  the  thought  of 
what  that  journey  might  hold.  An  immense 
pity  and  tenderness  filled  his  heart.  A  thou 
sand  wild  schemes  surged  through  his  brain  by 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

which  the  journey  might  be  prevented.  Yet 
he  knew  that  Carolina  was  immovable ;  that 
she  had  pledged  herself  to  lead  that  forlorn 
hope  to  victory  or  to  death,  and  that  she  would 
keep  her  vow,  cost  what  it  might. 

Carolina  was  on  foot  early  the  next  morning. 
When  she  first  looked  out  of  the  cottage  door 
a  thick  white  mist  filled  the  valley  of  the 
Rasino,  completely  hiding  II  Gran  Sasso,  the 
tall  blue  mountain  which  serves  the  village  of 
Roccaraso  as  a  barometer.  As  the  sun  sucked 
up  the  earth's  vapors,  the  mist  veil  lifted  and 
showed  the  top  of  the  mountain  all  ruddy  with 
a  deep  glow  reflected  from  the  rising  sun. 

"  There  is  no  cloud  cap  on  the  Gran  Sasso  this 
morning,"  said  Carolina,  consulting  the  moun 
tain  barometer  ;  "  we  shall  have  a  fine,  bright 
day,  grazie  Deo  !  " 

While  Carolina  brought  water  from  the 
fountain  and  fagots  from  the  woodpile,  filled 
the  kettle  and  lighted  the  fire,  the  mountain's 
veil  of  mist  dropped  lower  and  lower  —  as  the 
veil  of  a  bride  is  dropped  —  till  all  its  glori 
ous  outline,  peak  and  sides  and  foot,  stood 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZ1ERI 

revealed,  a  shining  splendor  in  the  morning 
world. 

There  was  still  time  before  Giulio  would 
wake  to  keep  her  tryst  with  Roffredo  at  the 
hermitage,  make  a  parting  prayer  to  the 
Madonna,  and  take  leave  of  the  Romito. 

She  found  Roffredo  waiting  for  her  in  the 
hermitage  graveyard  ;  he  was  standing  before 
an  ancient  blue  slate  tombstone  with  a  cheru 
bim's  head  and  an  hour-glass  carved  above  the 
name  and  the  date,  1404.  Coming  up  softly 
from  behind,  Carolina  touched  him  on  the  arm, 
surprising  him  as  he  had  surprised  her  at  her 
ploughing,  in  the  early  days  of  their  love, 
nearly  a  month  ago. 

"  Blood  of  my  heart,  is  it  thou  ?  I  thought 
the  morning  was  too  bright  for  mere  sunlight." 
Roffredo  whispered  the  words,  though  no  one 
but  their  two  selves  was  within  earshot. 

"  Amor  mio  !  Tell  me  what  is  written  on 
the  stone.  I  know  that  this  is  the  name,  but 
what  do  those  other  words  mean?"  She 
touched  the  worn  letters  with  a  hand  that 
trembled. 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

Roffredo  clasped  her  strong  brown  hand,  the 
honest  hand  that  had  worked  so  faithfully  at 
the  loom  and  at  the  plough,  as  he  read  aloud 
the  epitaph : 

"  Guardi  passaggier   del  tuo  Jin    la  sorte, 
Qual  tu  set  io  Jui,  ed  or  in  polve 
Torna  il  tuo  corpo  frale,  e  si  risolve, 
E  qual  son  io,  tu  pur  sarai  in  morte  !  " 

Carolina  shivered  at  the  words,  as  common 
in  Italy  as  the  equivalent  — 

"Stranger,  pause  as  you  pass  by. 
As  you  are  now,  so  once  was  I  ; 
As  I  am  now,  so  you  will  be. 
Prepare  for  death  and  follow  me  ! " 

in  New  England. 

She  drew  her  shawl  about  her,  and  for 
comfort  pressed  closer  to  her  lover's  side. 

"Roffredo,  I  do  not  want  to  die,"  she 
murmured. 

"  Thou  art  not  going  to  die  ;  at  least  not  for 
a  long  time  ! "  he  exclaimed,  with  a  fine  air  of 
protection. 

"  But  I  don't  ever  want  to  die  !  " 


HERMIT   OF   PIETRO   ANZIERI 

"  Ah,  well,  when  thou  art  a  hundred  years 
old  thou  niayst  feel  differently.  Go  in  now, 
core  of  my  heart,  and  say  thy  prayers.  I  will 
wait  here  for  thee.  There  comes  thine  uncle, 
the  Romito,  to  keep  me  company." 

Roffredo  spoke  cheerily.  Carolina  looked 
up  into  his  face  and  smiled  wanly.  On  the 
chapel  steps  she  ran  into  the  Romito,  who 
was  coming  down. 

Though  it  was  no  festa  and  not  yet  seven 
o'clock,  the  hermit  was  clean  shaven ;  his 
rusty  black  gown  showed  large  wet  spots 
where  he  had  tried  to  clean  it ;  his  shoes  were 
blacked  ;  he  had  an  air  of  reckless  gayety  that 
struck  Carolina. 

"  Hast  thou  forgotten  that  we  part  to-day  ?  " 
She  spoke  to  the  Romito,  she  looked  at 
Roffredo.  The  Romito  rolled  his  large  sheep 
ish  eyes  at  her. 

"  Ah !  my  dear,  we  must  keep  up  thy 
spirits,"  he  said. 

"  Remember,  Romito,"  Roffredo  whispered 
fiercely,  as  the  leathern  curtain  fell  behind  Caro 
lina,  "  you  are  to  go  to  Pescocostanzo  with  us  1 " 

15  225 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

i6 1  never  said  I  would  go  ! "  the  old  fellow 
answered  firmly. 

"  With  respect,  you  are  as  obstinate  as  an 
ass  !  It  is  the  only  way,"  Roffredo  persisted. 

"  How  can  you  ask  me  to  drive  with  you  to 
Pescocostanzo,  my  son  ? "  whined  the  hermit. 
"  The  Pescocostanzans  are  persons  without 
faith  and  of  little  education.  Their  conduct 
towards  Our  Lady  of  Pietro  Anzieri,  whose 
poor  servant  I  am,  has  always  been  barbarous, 
not  to  say  sacrilegious.  It  is  thirty  years 
since  I  have  set  foot  in  that  town ;  you  may 
not  know  this." 

"  It  is  not  your  fault  if  I  do  not  know  it ; 
you  have  told  me  often  enough.  Without 
compliments,  you  must  come.  You  have 
great  influence  with  Carolina  ;  she  will  listen 
to  you.  Romito,  were  you  ever  in  love  ? " 

The  hermit  looked  carefully  about  him  to 
see  that  they  were  alone ;  then,  standing  on 
tiptoe  and  stretching  his  long  yellow  neck,  he 
whispered  in  Roffredo's  ear.  The  young  man 
clapped  him  gayly  on  the  shoulder,  crying,  — 

"  Eh  ?  Truly  ?  Bravo  !  galantuomo  !  You 
226 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

can  understand  that  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  separate  from  Carolina.  She  cannot  write 
me ;  she  cannot  read  my  letters.  In  the 
name  of  all  the  saints,  why  was  that  girl  not 
taught  to  read  or  write  ?  " 

"  When  the  government  school  was  opened 
in  Roccaraso,  the  father  being  dead,  the  mother 
asked  my  advice  about  sending  her  children  to 
school.  I  remember  that  I  said  to  her,  4  Send 
the  boy  if  you  will,  but  do  not  send  the  girl. 
If  your  daughter  learns  to  write  she  will  de 
ceive  you  when  she  grows  up  ;  she  will  be 
forever  writing  to  young  men.' ' 

Roffredo  groaned.  "  If  she  could  only  write 
to  this  young  man  ! " 

The  Romito  looked  offended.  "  Carolina  has 
been  taught  all  that  it  is  necessary  for  a  woman 
to  know  of  books,"  he  said.  "  She  can  repeat 
the  rosary,  the  litany,  and  the  catechism ;  she 
can  make  all  the  responses  in  the  mass  ;  what 
does  she  want  with  reading  and  writing  ?  " 

"  My  little  sister,  Piccina,"  said  Roffredo, 
"not  ten  years  old,  has  learned  to  read,  to 
write,  and  many  other  things ;  she  can  read 

227 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

music  by  note,  and  she  draws  quite  nicely 
already." 

"  And  where  has  she  learned  all  these  fine 
things  ? "  asked  the  Romito.,  scornfully. 

"In  an  American  school,  which  they  call 
the  garden  of  the  children." 

"  What  nonsense  ! "  cried  the  Romito.  "  I 
maintain  that  a  neater,  sweeter,  better  edu 
cated  girl  than  my  niece  Carolina  does  not 
exist ;  if  this  were  not  so,  would  you  be  so 
anxious  to  marry  her  ? " 

"  Hush  !  there  she  comes,  looking  more  like 
a  Madonna  than  ever,"  whispered  Roffredo. 

Carolina's  eyes  had  that  expression  of  ex 
altation  they  always  wore  after  a  visit  to  the 
Madonna  of  Pietro  Anzieri.  She  came  down 
the  steps  calm  and  strong. 

" Farewell,  carissimo"  she  said  ;  "let  us  part 
here,  where  we  first  met,  outside  the  chapel  of 
the  Madonna." 

"  Heart  of  my  heart,  thou  and  I  must  never 
part  again.  At  Pescocostanzo  the  priest  is 
waiting  to  marry  us  ;  the  magistrate,  my  cousin, 
to  make  the  civil  marriage.  The  Romito  here 

228 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

has  given  his  consent.     He  wishes  to  go  with 
us  in  order  to  represent  thy  family  at  these 


ceremonies." 


"Liar,  prevaricator,  perjurer,  I  have  refused!" 
the  hermit  shouted,  then  paused ;  neither  of 
the  lovers  was  listening  to  him. 

"  Roffredo,  I  swear  to  be  true  to  thee.  I  will 
marry  no  other,"  Carolina  was  saying,  "  not 
Francesco,  no,  if  he  should  come  to  ask  me  on 
his  knees,  with  his  hands  full  of  diamonds  and 
pearls.  I  would  die  for  thee,  but  I  will  not 
abandon  my  poor  brother  for  thee." 

"  I  swear  to  thee  that  as  long  as  Giulio  lives, 
not  only  thou  but  I  myself  will  care  for  him." 

"  No,  no,  the  sacrifice  is  too  great,  I  cannot 
allow  it." 

"  Tad !  "  (be  silent).  Holding  fast  to  her 
hand  Roffredo  led  Carolina,  followed  by  the 
Romito,  to  the  back  of  the  hermitage,  where 
stood  an  ancient  flea-bitten  gray  horse  and  a 
prehistoric  squash-colored  phaeton. 

"  Behold  the  equipage  !  Behold  the  mail ! 
The  contract  my  uncle  made  to  carry  the 
mails,  which  since  his  death  I  have  held, 

229 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

expires  to-day.  If  the  mail-bags  are  not 
delivered  without  further  delay,  I  shall  forfeit 
the  last  payment  still  due  me  —  I  may  even 
be  fined,  possibly  put  in  prison." 

Poor  Carolina  gasped  at  the  word  "  prison." 
"  Uncle,"  she  cried  desperately,  "  what  shall 
I  do  ? " 

"  Carolina  mia,  since  you  have  sacrificed  your 
patrimony  to  make  this  mad  journey,  I  tell  you 
frankly  you  can  no  longer  pick  and  choose  a 
bridegroom,  as  was  formerly  the  case  when  you 
had  a  better  dowry  than  any  girl  in  Roccaraso. 
It  seems  that  Roffredo  has  brought  back  strange 
ideas  from  North  America,  wrhere  the  marriage 
customs  appear  to  be  quite  barbarous,  parents 
feeling  it  no  shame  to  send  a  daughter  without 
even  a  soldo  —  yes,  quite  as  a  beggar  —  to  her 
husband's  house.  It  is  lucky  for  us  all  that 
Roffredo  is  willing  to  marry  you  on  these 
terms,  but  such  haste  as  he  proposes  is  shock 
ing,  not  to  say  indecent." 

"  Andiamo  !  "  cried  Roffredo.  "  Carolina,  sit 
here  beside  me.  Romito,  get  in  behind  there. 
Squat  upon  the  smaller  mail-bag,  embrace 

230 


HERMIT   OF   PIETRO   ANZIERI 

the  other  so  "  thou  wilt  not  fall  out."  The 
Romito,  a  leaf  in  the  storm,  was  whirled  into 
the  chariot,  his  long  thin  shanks  doubled  under 
hinij  his  thin  arms  clasping  convulsively  a  large 
leather  sack  of  newspapers. 

"Madonna  mia!  The  man  is  mad!"  he 
whimpered. 

The  gray  stamped  its  hind  foot  to  kick  off 
a  fly.  The  Romito  shrieked,  "  San  Antonio, 
protect  us  !  Get  in,  Carolina.  Roffredo  is  pos 
sessed  !  After  the  manner  of  the  Pescoco- 
stanzans  he  carries  you  off  by  force,  without 
ceremony  ! " 

"  Thou  meanest  what  thou  hast  said  ?  "  asked 
Carolina.  She  sounded  her  lover's  eyes  and 
found  them  honest. 

"  Thou  art  a  good  man."  She  climbed 
into  the  phaeton.  Roffredo  sprang  after  her, 
snapped  his  aged  whalebone  whip  ;  the  gray 
horse  started  with  a  jump,  and  the  old  yellow 
phaeton,  the  pride  of  Pescocostanzo,  the  envy 
of  Roccaraso,  lurched  down  the  white  high 
road  in  the  direction  of  Pescocostanzo. 


VIII 

THE    GATE    OF    HOPE 

GIULIO,  too  much  absorbed  in  the  coming 
journey  to  think  long  of  anything  else,  re 
ceived  Carolina  and  Roffredo  as  if  what  had 
happened  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world. 

"  So  you  two  are  married  ?  Truly,  Carolina, 
thou  art  a  little  witch  ;  nothing  could  have 
been  more  fortunate.  Roffredo  here  is  strong 
enough  to  carry  all  our  baggage,  and  to  lend 
me  an  arm  into  the  bargain." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  am  strong  enough  for  the  whole 
family,"  cried  Roffredo,  as  he  shouldered  the 
green  flowered  carpet-bag.  Carolina  stooped 
down  to  pick  up  the  hair-covered  trunk,  pre 
paratory  to  placing  it  on  her  head. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Madama,"  cried  Roffredo, 
"here  is  one  who  will  bear  that  burden  for 
thee."  A  strong  young  lass  received  the  trunk 
upon  her  head  and  swung  off  with  it  to  the 
station. 

233 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

'•'  That  is  a  waste  of  money ;  she  will  want 
five  soldi  for  taking  that  trunk  to  the  station," 
sighed  Carolina. 

"Ah,  well,  one  may  be  extravagant  on 
one's  wedding  day,"  laughed  Roffredo.  His 
good-nature  was  contagious.  They  all  laughed 
together. 

"  Thou  shalt  never  again  carry  such  burdens 
on  thy  beautiful  head,  that  I  promise  thee,"  he 
whispered. 

Carolina  looked  at  him  with  grave,  wonder 
ing  eyes  and  shook  her  beautiful  head.  She 
loved  Roffredo  with  all  the  passion  of  a  first 
love,  but  she  did  not  pretend  to  understand 
him. 

On  the  way  to  the  station  they  were  joined 
by  the  Romito  and  the  government  doctor. 
Giulio,  leaning  on  his  brother-in-law's  arm, 
nodded  gayly  to  them. 

"  A  plague  on  this  street,"  he  cried  ;  "  if  it 
were  not  so  steep  we  should  have  the  pleasure 
of  driving  past  the  Sindaco's  house  in  Rof- 
fredo's  carriage.  The  carriage  is  waiting  for  us 
at  the  sheepfolds  at  the  foot  of  the  hill.  That 

234 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

old  cat  is  watching  us  from  the  housetop.     She 
will  see  us  drive  up  to  the  station,  grazie  Deo." 

They  had  no  more  time  than  was  necessary 
to  buy  their  tickets  and  weigh  their  baggage. 

"  I  shall  send  all  these  things  in  the  luggage 
van,"  Roffredo  declared. 

"  What  madness  !  There  are  but  fourteen 
pieces,  even  counting  the  basket  of  provisions, 
the  fiascone  of  wine,  and  the  box  of  eggs,"  cried 
Carolina. 

"  There  will  be  plenty  of  room  in  the  racks 
for  all  these  things ;  it  will  cost  a  fortune  to 
send  them  as  luggage,"  Giulio  objected. 

"Not  for  that  old  hair-covered  trunk  with 
the  brass  nails  ;  where  did  it  come  from  ? " 
cried  Roffredo. 

"  It  is  the  best  trunk  ;  quite  as  good  as  the 
day  it  came  into  the  house  with  grandmother's 
corredo^  said  Carolina,  firmly. 

"  It  is  so  strange  looking ! "  objected  Rof 
fredo. 

"  When  one  travels  it  is  not  necessary  to  fare 
figura"  said  the  Romito.  "  One  is  among 
strangers ;  nobody  knows  one." 

235 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

The  train  coming  in  sight  at  this  moment 
ended  the  argument.  Roffredo  had  his  way 
about  the  haircloth  trunk  ;  the  other  thirteen 
pieces  were  crowded  into  the  racks,  which  for 
tunately  were  quite  empty. 

The  moment  for  parting  came.  Carolina, 
grown  pale,  swallowed  back  the  tears  as  she 
took  leave  of  her  uncle  and  the  government 
doctor. 

"  Addio,  dottore  mio,  may  the  Madonna 
reward  you ! "  she  said. 

"  Good-bye,  everybody.  I  shall  be  back  in 
time  for  the  spring  planting,"  Giulio  called 
cheerfully  from  the  window. 

"  A  rivederci,  dottore"  said  Roffredo,  "  when 
Giulio  has  no  more  need  of  us  Carolina  and  I 
shall  sail  for  New  York.  If  you  ever  come 
there  my  store  is  in  Mulberry  Street ;  anybody 
can  tell  you  where  it  is." 

"  Grazie  mitte,  e  rivederd"  cried  the  doctor. 

As  the  train  started  poor  Giulio  was  seized 
with  a  terrible  spasm  of  coughing. 

"It's  a  good  thing  that  Carolina  has  that 
stout  young  fellow  along  to  help  her,"  said  the 

236 


HERMIT   OF  PIETRO  ANZIERI 

doctor,  waving  his  hat  as  the  train  steamed 
across  the  valley  of  the  golden  gorse,  in  the 
direction  of  Pescocostanzo.  He  and  the  Ro- 
mito  had  been  left  together  on  the  platform. 

"  Hein  ?  "  said  the  hermit.  "  What  was 
that  you  once  said  to  me  about  being  too 
busy  to  make  marriages?  If  Carolina  has  a 
husband  it  is  thanks  to  you." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  doctor.  "  I  had  noth 
ing  to  do  with  it."  He  dropped  a  piece  of 
money  into  the  Romito's  begging  box. 

"  For  yourself,  understand,  to  drink  the 
bride's  health." 

"  I  shall  not  fail  to  do  so  ;  yours  as  well. 
I  shall  also  buy  candles  for  Our  Lady,  and 
burn  them  with  a  petition  that  she  continue 
her  protection  of  Carolina.  Terrible  as  it  is  to 
cross  the  ocean  to  North  America,  it  is  better 
than  having  to  live  at  Pescocostanzo,  for  Rof- 
fredo,  after  all,  is  now  an  American  and  not  a 
Pescocostanzan. " 
#  #  *  *  *  *  * 

In  Mulberry  Street,  the  heart  of  New 
York's  "  Little  Italy,"  is  a  fine  fruit  and  wine 

237 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

store  kept  by  Roffredo  Ferrari  and  his  hand 
some  wife  Carolina.  Next  door  is  the  "  Ton- 
sorial  Parlor  "  of  her  brother  Giulio  (now  called 
Julian).  Thanks  to  the  Madonna  of  Pietro 
Anzieri,  to  the  good  Swiss  air,  or  to  Carolina's 
indomitable  will,  the  miracle  was  accomplished 
and  Giulio's  health  restored.  Carolina  rules 
both  establishments  with  the  firm  hand  of 
a  benevolent  despot.  She  has  a  word  to 
say  about  most  things  in  the  little  Abruzzi 
colony  within  the  larger  Italian  colony.  She 
is  Father  Oberto's  right  hand  ;  the  good  priest 
recognizes  that  hers  is  the  ruling  spirit  in  the 
"block,"  honeycombed  with  dwellings  of  the 
Ferrari's  friends  and  relations  who  have  fol 
lowed  them  across  the  ocean,  through  the 
Gate  of  Hope,  to  the  Hospitable  Land. 


238 


VIII 
IN   OLD   POLAND 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN   OLD  POLAND 

I 

BERLIN 

"  "W"  WAIT  ! "  said  the  gorgeous  being ;  his 
beauty  took  away  my  breath.  He  was 

JL  young  and  tall ;  he  wore  a  uniform  of 
white  broadcloth,  a  shining  helmet  and  cuirass, 
high  boots  coming  above  the  knee,  and  a  big 
sabre  swinging  at  his  side.  He  was  even  hand 
somer  than  his  dress,  a  blond  giant  with  fair 
hair,  pink  cheeks,  blue  eyes,  and  an  adorable 
little  golden  moustache. 

"  I  wait !  "  he  repeated  haughtily. 

There  was  not  room  to  pass  on  the  narrow 
strip  of  dry  pavement ;  one  of  us  must  step 
out  into  the  puddle  on  either  side.  His  in 
solence  restored  the  breath  his  beauty  took 
away. 

"  I  also  wait ! " 

16 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

•<• 

His  angry  scorn  did  not  consume  me  ;  re 
membering  Ethan  Allen  and  the  olive,  I  stood 
my  ground.  He  eyed  me  for  one  intolerable 
moment ;  a  trumpet  sounded  from  the  barrack 
across  the  square  —  perhaps  he  was  late  for 
parade  or  drill,  for  at  the  sharp  tara-tara,  with 
one  muttered  word  "  Americanischer ! "  he 
stepped  out  into  the  dirty  water  (it  closed  over 
his  wonderful  boots,  splashed  his  immaculate 
breeches)  and  was  gone,  a  splendid  pink  and 
gold  vision  of  wrath  I  shall  not  forget.  I  was 
grieved  at  the  spotting  of  that  fine  raiment. 
Had  he  shown  the  least  courtesy,  appealed, 
even  with  a  look,  to  my  good  fellowship — but 
no,  he  had  arrogantly  ordered  me  out  of  his 
path  as  an  inferior  ! 

That  was  our  first  impression  of  Berlin,  of 
Prussian  Junkerism.  It  was  all  in  keeping 
with  the  tradition  of  my  father's  reception  here 
in  1831.  He  had  come  to  study  the  methods 
of  teaching  at  the  School  for  the  Blind.  On 
his  way  from  Boston  to  Berlin  he  stopped  in 
Paris,  where  he  fell  in  with  General  Lafayette. 
We  have  the  General's  letter  asking  my  father 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

to  meet  him  on  a  certain  day,  the  day  that 
business  was  arranged  which  caused  my  father 
to  be  arrested  in  his  hotel  at  Berlin  on  the 
night  of  his  arrival,  under  the  lettre  de  cachet 
system,  and  shut  up  in  prison  for  five  weeks 
without  trial  or  hearing.  Lafayette  had  asked 
him  to  make  a  detour  on  his  way  to  Berlin  to 
a  place  on  the  banks  of  the  Vistula,  and  to 
carry  a  large  sum  of  money,  subscribed  by 
American  citizens,  to  clothe  and  feed  the 
Polish  refugees  (chiefly  women  and  children) 
who  were  there  suffering  terrible  hardships  while 
the  last  remnant  of  fighting  men  were  making 
their  final  heroic  stand  for  national  existence. 
The  dangerous  commission  safely  executed,  my 
father  pushed  on  to  Berlin  on  his  inoffensive 
mission.  I  have  heard  him  tell  of  the  arro 
gance  of  the  two  gens  d'armes  who  escorted 
him  on  his  long  drive  from  Berlin  to  the 
Belgian  frontier,  where,  he  used  to  say,  they 
kicked  him  out  of  the  country  with  a  warn 
ing  never  to  return.  Now  I  know  just  how 
those  traditionary  gens  d'armes  looked  and 
behaved. 

243 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Berlin  on  the  Emperor's  birthday  is  a  gay 
place.  In  the  morning  came  the  review  of 
the  troops.  I  saw  my  officer  riding  at  the 
head  of  his  men ;  he  is  a  lieutenant  of  the 
garde  du  cour.  Of  all  those  splendid  soldiers 
I  think  the  White  Uhlans  the  most  imposing, 
though  the  Dragoons  with  their  bearskins,  the 
Hussars  with  their  preposterous  caps,  and 
jackets  dangling  from  their  shoulders,  are  as 
handsome  in  their  way. 

The  horses  are  wrorthy  of  the  riders  ;  well 
bred,  sleek  (a  horse  can  sometimes  afford  to 
be  sleek,  a  man  never),  with  long  flowing 
tails,  crinkled  manes,  handsomely  saddled  and 
bridled,  with  particularly  nice  saddle  cloths. 

"  Those  chaps,"  said  J.  (the  infantry  were 
filing  by),  "  are  the  backbone  —  the  real  stuff 
of  the  army.  Every  battle  from  Marathon  to 
Sedan  has  been  decided  by  the  staying  power 
of  the  rank  and  file." 

"  I  hate,"  said  Virginia,  "  the  way  they 
throw  out  their  legs,  more  like  ostriches 
marching  than  like  men." 

"  You  women  folk  are  all  the  same," 
244 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

grumbled  J. ;  "  you  never  have  eyes  for  any 
thing  but  cavalry ! " 

Our  hotel  was  near  the  barracks.  Every 
morning  we  were  waked  by  a  melodious  liquid 
sound  as  of  a  rushing  torrent  turning  over 
the  loose  stones  of  a  river  bed.  At  the  noise 
Virginia  and  I  sprang  up,  ran  to  the  window 
to  watch  the  passing  regiment ;  to  see  the  tor 
rent  of  horses  pacing  in  perfect  time,  their 
beautiful  heads  bobbing  back  and  forth,  their 
feet  stepping  to  the  joyous  measure  of  the 
bugle  ;  to  see,  incidentally,  the  officers.  Horses 
and  men  were  like  a  company  of  shining  cen 
taurs  ;  as  fresh  and  well-liking  as  if  the  pinky 
glow  in  the  sky  over  Unter  den  Linden  shone 
from  the  setting,  not  the  rising  sun.  The 
career  of  arms  leads  to  one  victory  at  least.  — 
a  victory  of  the  will,  —  the  habit  of  early 
rising. 

The  evening  after  the  review  we  saw  a  gala 
performance  at  the  opera-house  of  a  famous 
ballet,  the  Puppen  Fee ;  it  costs  so  much  to 
produce  that  it  is  only  given  on  occasions  like 
this,  when  the  Emperor  takes  the  whole  theatre 

245 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

and  invites  the  court,  the  military  and  diplo 
matic  circles,  to  be  his  guests.  The  theatre 
was  crowded  with  those  magnificent  officers 
and  their  ladies,  all  in  the  fullest  of  full  dress, 
sparkling  with  jewels  and  orders.  There  was 
hardly  a  black  coat  in  the  house  outside  of  the 
box  of  the  American  ambassador,  where  we 
sat.  I  saw  the  Kaiser  distinctly.  His  face  is 
keen,  alert,  full  of  vitality.  I  am  sure  he  is 
perfectly  sincere  in  his  belief  in  the  divine 
rights  of  kings,  of  the  King  of  Prussia  espe 
cially.  His  poor  withered  arm,  root  of  so 
much  sorrow,  of  such  bitterness  between  his 
mother  and  himself,  was  held  close  to  his  side. 
They  say  the  Emperor  believes  the  injury  was 
received  at  birth,  blames  the  English  physician, 
and  never  forgave  the  Empress  Frederick  for 
calling  in  the  Britisher  instead  of  employing  a 
German  doctor. 

The  first  time  1  was  in  Germany  the  old  Em 
peror  William  was  on  the  throne,  with  his 
"  faithful  servant "  Bismark  at  his  right  hand. 
The  Emperor  Frederick  was  the  nation's  adored 
"  Unser  Fritz,"  and  the  Empress  Frederick  his 

246 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

beloved  Crown  Princess.  They  were  a  fine 
couple  ;  I  remember  them  well ;  he  was  a 
blond,  handsome,  hearty  man;  she  had  the 
distinction  that  belonged  to  all  Queen  Victoria's 
daughters.  I  once  saw  the  Crown  Princess  rid 
ing  at  the  head  of  the  Prussian  regiment  of 
which  she  was  honorary  Colonel.  She  wore  the 
gay  cap  and  jacket  of  the  regimental  uniform, 
and  a  plain  black  habit  skirt ;  in  spite  of  the  pet 
ticoat  she  was  a  gallant  figure.  The  Empress 
Frederick  brought  many  civilizing  influences 
with  her  from  England  to  Prussia.  I  found  a 
pretty  illustration  of  this  in  the  "  Life  of  Rosa 
Bonheur."  In  1870,  when  the  German  army 
was  marching  on  Paris,  their  route,  as  origi 
nally  laid  down,  led  through  the  village  where 
Rosa  Bonheur,  the  famous  French  animal 
painter,  lived.  When  it  was  known  that  the 
Germans  were  coming,  the  great  little  woman, 
in  her  male  attire,  insisted  upon  doing  sentinel 
duty  with  the  men  of  the  village.  When  the 
hated  German  battalions  came  in  sight,  she 
was  on  guard,  musket  on  shoulder,  holding 
the  bridge. 

247 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

The  battalions  came  ;  they  passed.  Avoid 
ing  the  village,  they  marched  by  on  the  oppo 
site  bank  of  the  Seine  to  a  bridge  lower  down 
the  river.  Later  it  was  learned  that  the  com 
manding  general  had  received  a  telegram  from 
the  Crown  Princess,  asking  him  to  spare  the 
home  of  Rosa  Bonheur  the  ignominy  of  a  visit 
from  the  conquerors.  Isn't  that  a  nice  per 
sonal  touch  ?  In  her  girlhood  she  must  have 
admired  the  pictures  her  mother  bought  from 
the  painter.  I  think  Queen  Victoria  owned 
among  others  that  lovely  picture  of  Scotch 
cattle  in  a  Highland  mist. 

After  the  dear  pretty  soldiermen  —  yes,  in 
spite  of  all,  we  admired  them  —  the  Museum 
is  the  best  thing  we  found  in  Berlin.  It  is 
glorious,  with  a  collection  of  Greek  and  Roman 
statues  ranking  next  to  that  of  the  Vatican  at 
Rome.  Here  I  saw  at  last  the  original  bronze 
statue  of  the  Praying  Boy,  after  having  loved 
him  all  my  life  in  photographs  and  casts. 
The  statue  was  found  at  the  bottom  of  the 
Tiber  in  Rome  —  my  dear  yellow  river  —  and 
carried  off  to  Berlin.  You  can  imagine  how 

248 


IN  OLD   POLAND 

—  in  the  midst  of  all  that  was  alive  and 
modern  —  it  felt  to  come  across  this  beautiful 
Greek  statue  in  the  cold  and  silent  halls  of  the 
Museum. 

In  spite  of  the  soldiers  and  the  statues  we 
were  not  sorry  to  leave  Berlin.  Just  as  we 
were  asking  each  other  "  Where  next  ? "  came 
an  invitation  from  our  old  friend  Gertrude  — 
married  and  buried  alive  in  that  part  of  old 
Poland  now  called  West  Prussia  —  to  visit  her 
in  her  German  home.  It  is  a  long  expensive 
journey,  as  the  burial  place  is  near  the  borders 
of  Russia,  only  half  as  far  again  from  St. 
Petersburg  as  it  is  from  Berlin.  To  get  there 
we  should  pass  over  the  ground  my  father 
covered  when  he  carried  aid  to  the  Poles. 
We  should  see  the  Vistula. 

"  Be  sure,"  said  Gertrude's  letter,  "  to  come 
by  the  gilt-edged  limited,  first  class ;  be  sure 
to  wear  your  best  bib  and  tucker." 

I  consulted  Bradshaw's  Continental  Railway 
Guide ;  what  is  more  (class  me  with  Herodotus), 
I  understood  it ! 

"  The  difference  between  first  and  second 
249 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

class  tickets  would  buy  seats  for  the  play  of 
"  Faust,"  which  we  have  never  seen  —  probably 
shall  never  have  another  chance  to  see.  It 's 
absurd  extravagance  !  Only  royalty,  fools,  and 
Americans  travel  first  class  in  Germany. 

"  Wear  my  new  blue  hopsack  suit  on  an  all- 
night  journey  ? "  said  Virginia,  "  nenni ! " 

We  follow  the  old  Englishwoman's  rule  of 
three  dresses  for  a  traveller :  Hightum  for  best, 
Tightum  for  second  best,  Scrub  for  rainy  days 
and  journeys. 

"  Gertrude  knows  we  travel  second  in  Ger 
many  (in  France  and  Italy  first  is  only  just 
good  enough) ;  she  has  a  reason  for  what  she 
asks.  Let 's  compromise :  though  Scrub  is 
good  enough,  wear  Tightum,  go  by  a  slow 
train  second  to  X,  wait  there  for  the  limited, 
travel  the  rest  of  the  way  first." 

We  went  to  "  Faust,"  wonderful  as  an  acted 
play,  with  the  black  poodle,  the  devil,  the  trans 
formation  of  Dr.  Faustus  the  philosopher  into 
Faust  the  lover,  all  in  the  first  act.  We  are  so 
used  to  Gounod's  opera  that  we  almost  forget 
it  is  a  mere  shadow  of  Goethe's  masterpiece. 

250 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

All  fell  out  as  we  had  planned  as  far  as  X. 
If  the  express  had  been  on  time,  we  should 
have  made  a  close  connection  with  just  enough 
leeway  to  buy  our  deceitful  first-class  tickets 
and  re-check  our  luggage.  Alas !  the  gilt- 
edged  was  late.  Followed  a  grim  hour  passed 
in  the  desolate  first-class  waiting-room,  an 
enormous  barn  of  a  place  with  red  plush 
thrones,  a  bust  of  the  Kaiser,  oil  chromo  por 
traits  of  his  father  and  mother  in  their  youth. 

Nobody  had  waited  in  the  cold  splendor 
of  the  first-class  waiting-room  at  X  since  the 
last  royalty  passed  through  six  weeks  before. 
The  restaurant  was  closed,  the  ticket  seller 
dozed,  even  the  fierce  military  telegraph  opera 
tor  in  his  gold-laced  uniform  slept  in  his  cage, 
his  head  bent  over  his  machine,  which  clicked, 
clicked  incessantly,  only  his  own  particular 
click  having  the  power  to  wake  him.  It  was 
that  dreadful  hour  before  dawn  when  the 
earth's  chill  gets  into  one's  bones  if  one  hap 
pens  not  to  be  in  bed  where  one  belongs. 

Running  up  and  down  the  platform  to  get 
warm,  we  caught  the  big  yellow  eye  of  the 

251 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Cyclops  coming  at  us  down  the  straight  rails. 
A  minute  later  at  Cyclops'  snort,  the  drowsy 
station  sprang  into  discordant  life,  like  the 
Sleeping  Beauty's  palace  at  the  Prince's  kiss. 
The  station  master  thought  he  owed  us  a  grudge 
because  we  had  caught  him  engaged  with  a 
sandwich  and  a  glass  of  schnapps.  He  did  not 
know  how  hungry  we  were,  how  unfailing  at 
the  price  were  the  chocolates  in  tinfoil  from 
the  pfennig  in  the  slot-machine  —  how  we 
envied  him  his  frankfurter  and  petit  pain. 

The  guard  was  crosser  than  two  sticks. 
"First-class  passengers  at  X  ?  Wunderlich!" 
He  had  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  He  ran 
along  the  knifeboard  of  the  train  looking  into 
carriage  after  carriage  —  no  room  for  us  any 
where. 

"  There  must  be  a  great  many  royalties, 
Americans,  or  fools  on  board  this  train,"  said 
Virginia,  "  I  wonder  which  ?  " 

"It  will  leave  X  with  at  least  two  fools 
more,"  I  said.  "  If  only  J.  had  not  stayed  in 
Berlin!" 

"Ah,  he  has  a  way  with  these  railroad  kings," 
252 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

said  Virginia.     "I  wonder  if  he  could  have 
handled  this  one!" 

All  this  time  the  cross  guard  was  fuming, 
muttering  "  Donner  wetter"  hopping  up  and 
down,  peering  into  window  after  window. 
Virginia  and  I  followed  humbly. 

"You  are  already  more  than  an  hour  late, 
what  keeps  you  ?"  hectored  the  station  master. 

"  Sonderbar !  Whoever  expects  first-class 
passengers  at  X?  Tumble  in  here,  there  are 
only  two  in  this  carriage."  Cyclops  puffed 
and  panted  to  be  off,  the  bell  rang  impatiently, 
the  guard  fitted  a  key,  threw  open  a  door,  and 
pitched  us  and  our  belongings  pell-mell  into 
the  dark  interior  of  a  private  saloon  carriage. 

"  Oh,  take  care  of  that  basket ! "  I  implored. 

"The  basket  be  — 1"  roared  the  guard,  and 
slammed  the  door  just  as  the  train  started 
with  a  jolt. 

There  was  an  angry  growl.  "  What  is  the 
matter? "  A  long  gray  figure,  stretched  at 
full  length  on  the  seat,  sat  up  from  a  nest  of 
travelling  rugs. 

"I   beg  your  pardon,"   I   groaned.     "The 
253 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

guard  threw  the  basket  in.     I  told  him  to  be 
careful." 

"  Selby,  drop  that  cursed  lamp-shade,  put  up 
the  curtain  ;  let  us  have  a  little  light." 

"  Yes,  my  lord." 

Now  light  was  the  last  thing  I  wanted,  for, 
shame  of  shames,  that  dreadful  basket  —  a  pal 
metto  knapsack  basket  we  bought  in  Santo 
Domingo  —  had  turned  upside  down  (it  always 
does  in  critical  moments)  and  discharged  its 
outrageous  contents  over  the  sleeping  form  of 
an  English  Milord,  travelling  with  his  secre 
tary  in  a  private  car.  As  soon  as  Milord 
realized  that  the  intruders  were  women,  he 
softened. 

"Allow  me  to  assist  you." 

He  handed  me  a  pair  of  Virginia's  tiny  satin 
shoes  and  the  yellow  lacquered  tea-caddy,  and 
gathered  together  the  lumps  of  sugar — oh, 
shame  !  The  lemons  —  oh,  despair  !  the  candle 
ends !  The  knapsack  basket  served  as  an 
omnium  gatherum  of  "  human  warious."  At 
the  eleventh  hour,  when  the  hotel  omnibus 
stood  at  the  door,  the  tea  equipage  and  every- 

254 


IN  OLD  POLAND 

thing  that  had  been  forgotten  were  hurriedly 
collected  and  thrust  into  it.  I  worked  off 
some  of  my  purgatory  —  years  of  it,  it  seemed 
to  me.  As  to  Virginia — she  is  of  an  age  when 
such  mortifications  bite  to  the  bone. 

Milord  was  of  no  consequence,  Virginia 
thought,  because  he  was  old  and  fat.  His  sec 
retary  was  young,  with  deep  blue  near-sighted 
eyes  and  pretty  curling  brown  hair  all  rumpled 
by  the  sleep  from  which  we  had  rudely  roused 
him.  They  politely  gave  us  seats  near  the 
window  out  of  which  we  looked  steadily  as  the 
train  tore  along.  The  morning  was  cold  and 
damp,  a  wet  tangible  mist  walled  us  into  our 
carriage ;  stare  as  we  might,  we  saw  nothing 
but  mist,  mist,  with  now  and  then  a  ghostlike 
puff  of  white  smoke  from  the  engine  drifting 
past  the  darkened  windows.  At  every  mile 
stone  a  lone  figure  loomed  through  the  fog,  — 
a  railway  sentry  stiffly  presenting  arms  with  a 
furled  signal  flag.  This  to  show  that  the 
next  mile  of  track  for  which  he  is  responsible 
is  clear.  A  good  system !  But  when  you 
come  to  system  you  must  stop  criticising  the 

255 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Prussians.  The  effects  of  the  military  training 
are  seen  everywhere,  in  the  very  woodpiles 
arranged  with  a  mathematical  nicety  I  have 
never  seen.  When  1  first  remember  Ger 
many,  this  was  not  so.  I  don't  like  militarism 
rampant,  but  the  devil  must  have  his  due  ; 
I  must  say  it  has  spruced  up  the  nation 
astonishingly. 

The  Englishmen's  luggage  was  quite  as 
queer  as  ours,  when  it  was  daylight  and  we 
could  see  it.  They  travelled  with  a  clock,  a 
silver  reflector  candlestick  hooked  into  the 
back  of  the  seat,  several  air  pillows,  two  Japa 
nese  hells  (warming-pans),  an  enormous  demi 
john  of  water,  and  a  tin  box  of  biscuits. 

"  The  herrschaft  are  warned  not  to  get  off  at 
the  next  station,"  said  the  guard.  "  Owing  to 
our  being  late,"  —  he  glared  at  us  as  if  it  were 
all  our  fault,  —  "the  usual  ten  minutes'  stop 
for  breakfast  at  the  buffet  station  will  be 
omitted." 

"  I  would  give,"  said  Milord,  "  half  a  sover 
eign  for  a  cup  of  tea.' 

256 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

"  If  you  can  take  your  tea  with  lemon,  you 
shall  have  it  for  nothing  —  if  that  water  is 
the  kind  that  makes  tea,"  I  said. 

"It's  just  ordinary  decent  spring  water," 
said  the  secretary. 

"  You  have  tea  ? "  Milord's  eyes  brightened 
with  the  question. 

"  Tea,  sugar,  matches,  lemons,  alcohol,  and 
an  etna,  as  you  have  seen." 

"  If  you  would  be  so  awfully  kind  —  we 
have  biscuits." 

Virginia  opened  her  green  silk  bag.  "  Here 
are  chocolates  from  the  penny-in-the-slot  ma 
chine  at  X  ;  perhaps  they  are  more  wholesome 
stale." 

The  tragedy  of  the  tea  equipage  in  the 
palm-leaf  basket  was  turned  to  victory.  We 
intruders  became  life-savers.  The  English 
men's  hearts  warmed  towards  us.  The  meal 
though  variegated  was  comforting.  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  Milord's  struggle  to  drink  his 
tea  in  the  cup  of  his  silver  whiskey  flask  with 
out  hitting  the  tip  of  his  long  beak.  It  was 
a  good  deal  better  than  a  play  because  it  was 
IT  t  257 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

real.  Soon  we  were  all  talking  merrily  to 
gether,  Milord  and  I  about  diving-suits  (he 
has  invented  a  new  one),  Virginia  and  the  sec 
retary  about  Eight's  Week  at  Oxford,  when 
the  cross  guard  called  out, — 

"  Potztausand  is  the  next  station." 

We  put  our  things  hastily  together. 

"  You  get  out  here  ?  "  said  Milord  ;  then,  an 
noyed  at  having  been  betrayed  into  a  question, 
he  said  he  had  supposed  that  we,  like  they, 
were  bound  for  St.  Petersburg. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  the  secretary  ;  "  perhaps 
we  shall  meet  again ! "  He  hung  out  of  the 
window  waving  his  plaid  travelling-cap  as  the 
train  carried  them  away. 


258 


II 

POTZTAUSAND 

AN  old  barouche,  two  cream-colored  ponies, 
and  a  patriarch  with  a  long  grey  beard  met  us  at 
the  station.  The  patriarch's  back  was  turned 
towards  us  (he  was  occupied  with  the  skittish 
ponies),  so  he  was  none  the  wiser,  only  the 
station  master  saw  us  get  out  of  the  first-class 
carriage.  Was  he  sufficiently  impressed  with 
our  magnificence  to  make  all  that  it  had  cost 
worth  while  ? 

Gertrude,  handsome  as  ever,  met  us  at  the 
gate.  Her  face  is  firmer  and  finer  than  it  was : 
she  has  kept  her  figure,  is  still  tall  and  slender 
as  a  reed.  There  never  was  such  a  vibrant  per 
sonality  !  At  the  gate,  in  her  white  morning 
dress,  the  breeze  blowing  her  strong  yellow 
hair,  she  looked  like  the  wind  spirit.  She 
hardly  gave  us  time  to  make  ourselves  fit  to  be 
seen  before  hurrying  us  to  the  speisesaal  where 
her  husband  and  all  the  In-laws  were  waiting 
to  begin  breakfast.  The  women  are  rather 

259 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

a  frumpy  lot  (aristocratic  frumpery).  They 
looked  like  meek  pea-hens  beside  their  men, 
all  dashing  military  fellows.  I  was  glad  Vir 
ginia  had  relented  and  worn  her  smart  blue 
hopsack  trimmed  with  black  satin  ribbons  and 
wee  gold  buttons,  the  latest  Paris  fashion. 
Gertrude  whispered  on  the  way  down  that 
Virginia  was  "  zu  schon." 

66  Why,"  I  whispered  back,  "  did  you  make 
us  wear  our  best  clothes  ? " 

"Oh,  first  impressions  mean  so  much !  Your 
trunks  cannot  be  here  for  an  hour." 

"  And  why  first  class  ?  " 

"  You  will  be  treated  better  than  if  you  had 
travelled  second." 

"  They  will  never  know." 

"  Trust  them  to  find  out ! " 

The  chateau  is  a  rambling  old  building  of  no 
particular  style  ;  the  oldest  part  was  built  early 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  the  newest  a  hun 
dred  years  later.  Gertrude  says  that  house  and 
people  and  everything  about  the  estate  are  re 
mote  from  anything  else  in  the  world  —  "  Miles 
and  miles  away,"  she  says,  "  years  and  years." 

260 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

The  spdsesaal  is  an  immense  room  with  long 
windows,  glass-handled  doors,  family  portraits, 
and  Berlin  wool-worked  chairs.  The  salon, 
even  larger,  is  furnished  in  the  style  of  1830. 
The  place  reeks  with  war,  always  war  !  The 
two  serious  affairs  of  life  here  are  war  and 
potato  brandy.  In  the  hall  is  an  old  tattered 
French  flag,  found  wrapped  round  the  body  of 
a  French  soldier,  one  of  Poniatowski's  men,  a 
straggler  from  Napoleon's  army  in  the  retreat 
from  Moscow.  He  was  found  in  the  wood 
near  the  house  by  one  of  the  game-keepers, 
who  took  him  in,  nursed  him,  and  when  he 
died  buried  him.  In  the  state  bedroom  is  the 
bed  in  which  Marshal  Ney  slept  in  1807  on 
his  way  to  join  Napoleon  before  the  battle  of 
Eylau.  A  sabre  carried  at  Sedan  hangs  over 
the  mantel,  on  the  antlers  of  a  great  deer  shot 
by  the  man  who  owned  the  sabre ;  he  was  an 
uncle  of  the  present  incumbent.  All  the  tra 
ditions  of  the  family,  you  see,  are  of  war,  always 
of  war.  If  the  chateau  is  haunted,  it  must  be 
by  the  ghosts  of  fighting  men. 

The  estate  is  very  large,  ten  thousand  acres, 
261 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

with  two  villages  and  a  brennerie  (distillery) 
where  some  of  the  peasants  are  employed;  the 
others  work  in  the  potato  fields.  The  day 
after  we  arrived  we  had  a  good  chance  to  see 
the  people ;  it  was  the  master's  birthday,  no 
work  was  done,  and  the  old  chateau  was  the 
centre  of  hospitalities.  In  the  morning  there 
was  an  audience  for  the  serfs  (they  seemed 
hardly  better).  The  master  received  them  on 
the  steps  of  the  chateau.  Gertrude  stood  be 
side  him,  all  his  family  (her  In-laws)  grouped 
around  them.  Each  peasant  as  he  came  up 
bowed  low  and  kissed  the  hand  of  master  and 
mistress.  The  last  to  come  up  was  a  fine  old 
man  with  a  face  like  an  eagle,  and  very  distin 
guished  manners.  As  he  stooped  over  the 
master's  hand,  I  recognized  the  patriarch  who 
had  driven  us  from  the  station.  My  gorge  rose 
at  the  sight  of  this  white-haired  old  man  stoop 
ing  to  kiss  the  hand  of  the  Herr  lieutenant. 
No  man  can  like  to  kiss  another  man's  hand,  it 's 
out  of  nature.  A  woman's,  especially  when  it 
is  milk-white  like  Gertrude's,  is  different ;  there 
was  some  affection  in  that  hand  kuss. 


IN   OLD  POLAND 

"This  is  our  good  Peteroffski,"  said  Ger 
trude.  "  You  are  to  have  the  honor  of  driving 
our  friends  this  afternoon,  Peteroffski.  Be  sure 
and  point  out  my  favorite  views." 

"  Peteroffski  ? "  I  said.  "  I  know  a  young 
army  officer  of  that  name  in  my  country  — 
why,  you  look  enough  like  him  to  be  his 
father." 

"  I  have  a  brother  who  went  to  America 
thirty  years  ago.  I  have  lost  sight  of  him. 
He  married  there,  I  heard  of  the  birth  of  one 
son  Solomon." 

"  I  do  not  know  the  gentleman's  first  name, 
but  I  am  sure  he  is  your  nephew  -  "  I  began. 

"  That  will  do,  Peteroffski,"  interrupted  the 
first  In-law,  a  tall  arrogant  woman,  "you 
may  go  now.  To  strangers,  all  people  of  one 
country  look  alike  ;  it  would  have  been  im 
possible  for  the  gnadige  Frau  to  have  known 
your  brother's  family." 

The  old  man  looked  wistfully  at  me  as  he 
turned  away.  The  In-law  said  something  in 
an  undertone. 

"  Don't   you  see,"  Gertrude  explained,  "  it 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

would  never  do  for  one  of  our  servants  to 
imagine  that  any  of  my  friends  could  be 
friends  of  his  people  —  or  that  his  nephew 
could  possibly  be  an  officer ! " 

"  I  do  not  see  —  " 

"  Take  my  word  for  it ; "  and  the  hand- 
kissing  being  over,  Gertrude  carried  me  off 
to  the  garden.  I  plotted  a  further  talk  with 
Peteroffski  when  he  should  be  driving  us. 
I  reckoned  without  my  host.  Peteroffski 
was  sent  that  afternoon  to  the  horse  fair  at 
Dantzig  to  buy  horses.  We  never  saw  him 
again. 

The  formal  old  garden  is  Gertrude's  joy. 
The  lilacs  were  still  in  bloom  —  fancy  lilacs  at 
the  end  of  June.  It  has  been  a  cruelly  late 
spring,  snow  lying  on  the  ground  through 
April.  Gertrude  says  the  end  of  the  winter 
is  hard  to  bear.  Snow  begins  in  November. 
From  Thanksgiving  (she  "  keeps "  it,  poor 
darling,  by  always  having  roast  turkey  for 
dinner)  till  April  she  lives  in  a  white  marble 
world.  She  says  she  "  cannot  wait  for  spring," 
so  she  cuts  boughs  of  willows  and  apple  trees 

264 


IN  OLD  POLAND 

and  puts  them  in  vases  of  water  in  her  warm 
sitting-room.  The  pussy-willows  come  out 
while  there  is  snow  outside ;  long  before  the 
orchard  is  in  bloom  spring  and  apple  blossoms 
fill  the  pavilion. 

"  Is  your  Polish  as  good  as  your  German  ? " 
I  asked  Gertrude.  It  seemed  a  simple  ques 
tion.  She  looked  around  to  see  if  we  were 
alone  before  answering. 

"  I  understand  it  well  and  speak  it  fairly. 
I  don't  want  them  to  know." 

"  Why  ?  " 

'"Why,  oh,  why?  You  can't  expect  to 
understand  everything  at  once.  We  try  to 
suppress  the  Polish  language ;  our  peasants  are 
supposed  to  talk  German,  none  of  us  conde 
scend  to  learn  their  language.  I  know  a  little 
Yiddish,  too." 

"Is  there  any  truth  in  the  stories  of  Jew 
baiting  we  see  in  the  papers  at  home  ? " 

"Before  I  came,  there  was  trouble  here. 
One  Passover  eve,  the  gardener  s  little  son  dis 
appeared  ;  he  probably  wandered  through  the 
woods  and  fell  into  the  lake  and  was  drowned. 

265 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

Our  peasants  believed  the  Jews  had  spirited 
the  child  away  and  killed  it  to  mix  its  blood 
with  the  unleavened  bread  of  the  Passover." 

Life  at  the  chateau  is  leisurely  and  luxuri 
ous.  Nobody  is  in  a  hurry  ;  that  is  the  best 
luxury  of  all.  Hedwig,  Gertrude's  jolly  little 
German  madchen,  brings  our  early  breakfast 
to  our  room.  She  has  flat  braids  of  flaxen 
hair  plaited  in  eight  strands  and  wound  round 
and  round  her  head,  china  blue  eyes,  and  red 
apple  cheeks,  pretty  enough  to  give  us  an 
appetite  for  what  she  brings  on  her  red  and 
gold  lacquered  tray.  Coffee,  fresh  butter, 
honey,  and  pumpernickel  —  like  olives  and 
caviare,  a  cultivated  taste.  We  soon  became 
converts  to  pumpernickel,  a  coarse  black  bread 
made  of  unbolted  rye ;  it  has  a  curious  acid 
taste  and  is  the  mainstay  of  the  peasants. 
Dinner  is  at  seven,  supper  at  ten.  We  have 
learned  to  eat  five  meals  a  day  instead  of 
three.  It  is  the  modern  German  theory  to  eat 
often  and  lightly.  An  American  student  in 
one  of  the  big  scientific  laboratories  at  Stutt 
gart  told  me  he  had  made  the  habit  of  taking 

266 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

a  snack  every  two  hours,  never  eating  a  hearty 
meal  till  night,  when  all  his  brain  work  was 
done.  There  being  no  brain  work  for  us  here, 
we  get  up  appetites  between  meals  by  walks, 
drives,  rides,  tennis,  and  croquet. 

Our  greatest  festivity  was  a  state  dinner  at 
the  nearest  neighbor's,  thirty  miles  away.  We 
went  by  train,  carrying  our  evening  dress, 
dined,  danced,  supped,  slept,  breakfasted,  and 
came  home  the  next  day.  The  invitation  was 
returned  in  kind  ;  our  hosts,  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  party,  becoming  the  guests  of  the  chateau. 
The  ladies  of  the  family  supervised  the  prepa 
ration  of  the  good  things  —  they  were  good  ! 
We  are  converts  to  the  custom  of  always 
serving  "  compote  "  with  the  roast,  greengage 
plums  with  roast  chicken,  cherry  preserve  with 
ducks,  etc. 

The  jam  closet,  linen-room,  store-room,  and 
still-room  are  admirably  arranged.  These  Prus 
sian  grandes  dames  seem  more  housewifely 
than  most  women  in  the  world  to-day.  It  is 
the  trait  in  them  I  admired  most. 

One  morning  Gertrude  appeared  at  lunch 
267 


TWO   IN  ITALY 

evidently  dressed  for  society.  Everybody 
asked  where  she  was  going. 

"To  the  forester's  party,"  said  Gertrude. 
There  was  a  deal  of  laughter  at  this. 

"  Why,  Gertrude,  nobody  is  going.  It  was 
very  foolish  of  the  forester  to  attempt  to  give 
a  reception,"  said  the  first  In-law. 

"  Some  one  should  have  warned  him," 
added  another. 

"  We  all  like  the  forester.  His  bride  is 
a  pretty,  charming  young  woman,"  said 
Gertrude,  firmly,  "  and  I  am  going  to  her 
reception." 

"The  forester  is  an  excellent  person,"  the 
first  In-law  admitted,  "  worthy  of  respect  both 
as  a  government  official  and  as  a  man.  For 
their  own  sakes  he  and  his  young  wife  must  be 
made  to  understand  from  the  first  that  here 
professional  standing  and  social  position  are 
two  very  different  matters." 

"  Such  people  must  be  kept  out  of  society  ; 
the  bars  are  down,  the  rabble  is  rushing  in,"  said 
the  second  In-law,  a  handsome  cold-faced 
woman  I  had  seen  the  day  before  on  her 

268 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

knees  binding  up  the  wounded  arm  of  the 
coachman's  son. 

"  The  obligation  to  preserve  social  tradition 
is  sacred,"  said  the  last  In-law,  a  callow  youth 
in  the  uniform  of  a  military  academy ;  "  it  is 
as  bad  to  betray  your  caste  as  to  betray  your 
country  or  renounce  your  faith." 

"  Is  n't  fresh  blood  —  are  n't  new  ideas 
necessary  to  keep  society  from  stagnating?" 
I  hazarded. 

"  That  may  be  true  of  a  commercial  society," 
the  first  In-law  cautiously  admitted. 

"  They  are  vital  to  art,  letters,  science,  the 
worlds  of  which  '  society '  is  the  parasite,"  I 
maintained. 

"  The  American  point  of  view  is  always  so 
interesting,  so  original,"  said  the  first  In-law, 
indulgently  courteous  to  me  as  to  a  child. 

They  returned  to  the  subject  of  the  forester's 
party  and  threshed  it  out  thoroughly.  Each 
one,  down  to  the  last  In-law,  had  a  whack 
either  at  Gertrude  or  at  the  forester.  Vir 
ginia's  eyes  grew  hard  and  bright  as  diamonds. 
I  saw  red.  Gertrude's  strong  cool  glance  con- 

269 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

trolled  us.  The  master  of  the  house  all  this 
time  was  talking  to  his  neighbor  at  table  about 
ensilage.  When  the  last  In-law  had  had  his 
say,  and  we  were  just  rising  from  the  table,  the 
master  said  gallantly,  — 

"  The  carriage  is  ordered  for  you,  my  dear  ; 
take  a  warm  cloak,  the  drive  home  through  the 
forest  will  be  cold." 

The  discussion  was  closed  ;  we  began  to  talk 
about  the  last  book  by  Anatole  France.  They 
look  to  Paris  for  art,  literature,  and  fashion  as 
we  did  at  home  before  we  became  more  inter 
ested  in  the  production  of  the  native  articles. 

As  we  left  the  dining-room  Virginia  put  her 
hand  through  Gertrude's  arm,  whispering  in 
her  ear,  — 

"  I  want  to  go  with  you  to  the  party." 

"  No,"  said  Gertrude,  firmly,  "  I  must  go 
alone." 

At  dinner  Gertrude  had  not  yet  returned ; 
she  was  at  supper,  pale,  tired,  taciturn.  She 
was  afraid  she  would  be  asked  about  the  recep 
tion.  Her  silence  was  handsomely  covered  by 
all  the  In-laws,  who  were  uncommonly  agree- 

270 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

able.  We  heard  more  good  things  said  than  at 
all  the  other  meals  put  together.  After  supper 
there  was  music  in  the  big  drawing-room  ;  the 
master  sang  "  The  Two  Grenadiers  "  in  a  mel 
low  bass,  the  last  In-law  (that  callow  duckling 
from  the  military  academy)  gave  us  "  Adelaide." 
He  has  a  nice  light  tenor.  Then  we  all  sang  in 
chorus  the  dear  old  German  student  songs,  — 
the  very  same  Uncle  Sam  Ward  brought  home 
from  Heidelberg,  part  of  the  legacy  of  light  and 
song  he  left  us.  "  Was  bringt  der  Postillion  ?  " 
"  Ach  du  lieber  Augustin,"  "  Es  braust  ein  Ruf 
wie  Donnerhall."  We  went  to  bed  singing 
"  Eduard  und  Kunigunda "  as  we  passed 
through  the  long  corridors  of  the  rambling 
old  chateau  to  our  quarters  in  the  pavilion. 

The  night  was  chill.  Hedwig  kindled  a  little 
blaze  in  the  high  white  porcelain  tiled  stove. 
As  we  sat  with  our  toes  on  the  fender,  hug 
ging  the  fire,  there  came  a  tap  at  the  door,  and 
Gertrude  (in  a  very  pretty  violet  kimono  em 
broidered  with  wistaria)  came  in  for  a  pow-wow. 
The  confidence,  frozen  by  the  fine  manners  of 
the  Prussian  aristocrats,  burst  out  in  a  flood, 

271 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

as  our  great  frozen  river  Kennebec,  at  the 
first  spring  warmth,  melts  and  batters  its  dam 
of  ice. 

"  It  was  too  cruel,"  she  cried.  "  The  forester 
and  his  wife  had  made  such  splendid  prepara 
tions.  The  house  was  gay  with  flowers  and  the 
pretty  wedding  silver.  The  young  bride  wore 
her  bridal  dress.  A  supper  for  fifty  persons 
was  laid  out,  and  I  was  the  only  guest." 

"  What  did  it  mean  ?  Is  there  anything 
against  him  or  her  ? " 

"  Nothing ;  everybody  likes  him,  she  is  as 
sweet  and  pretty  as  a  pink,  but  it  has  not  been 
the  custom  here  to  notice  the  forester  or  his 
wife  socially.  He  is  a  young  man  from  an 
other  part  of  the  country,  and  did  not  know 
this.  They  sent  out  cards  to  all  the  people 
within  thirty  miles  —  not  one  noticed  the 
invitation  or  came." 

"  Brutes  ! "  cried  Virginia. 

"  No,  not  brutes,  only  fossils,"  said  Gertrude, 
with  tears  in  her  blue  eyes. 

"  He  had  brewed  the  punch  himself ;  she 
had  made  a  great  white  bridecake ;  ah  1  it 

272 


IN   OLD   POLAND 

was  too  cruel."  Gertrude  had  been  wanting 
to  cry  all  day.  Virginia  and  I  sat  down  and 
cried  with  her. 

"Are  you  glad  you  went?  Was  it  not 
more  awkward  for  them  to  have  you  see  how 
they  had  been  treated  ? "  asked  Virginia. 

"  I  am  glad  /  went,"  said  Gertrude ;  "  but 
you  see  now  why  I  would  not  take  you  to  the 
forester's  party ! " 

When  Gertrude's  hair  was  braided  and  tied 
with  lavender  ribbons  to  match  the  wistaria, 
we  kissed  all  round  and  said  good-night. 

"  Should  you  ever  feel  a  desire  to  live  in 
the  Pliocene  Age,"  I  said  to  Virginia  when  we 
were  alone,  "  marry  a  Prussian  Junker  officer." 

"  Gertrude's  husband  is  a  perfect  prince  ; 
remember  how  he  stood  by  her,"  Virginia 
objected. 

"  He  is  a  prince.  But  in  the  Pliocene  Age, 
under  the  feudal  system,  you  marry  the  whole 
family.  If  you  must  have  a  Prussian  officer, 
choose  a  healthy  orphan,  and  if  possible  trans 
plant  him  to  the  U.  S.  A." 

"  You   remember  Gertrude's   sister   Mary  ? 
is  273 


TWO   IN   ITALY 

There  was  not  much  to  choose  between  them 
when  they  were  girls,  was  there  ?  " 

"  Granted  ;  next  ?  " 

"  I  was  thinking,"  said  Virginia,  "  that  I 
would  rather  live  in  Potztausand  than  at 
Tuxedo  Park,  like  Mary.  The  cream-colored 
ponies  are  really  more  fun  than  an  automobile. 
Looking  out  for  the  peasants  who  are  earning 
your  living  must  be  more  interesting  than 
settlement  work.  If  Mary  gets  tired  of 
6  slumming,'  fifty  other  women  are  ready  to 
take  her  place.  What  Gertrude  does  counts  ; 
she  is  like  an  Arctic  discoverer  cutting  her  way 
through  floes  of  ice  to  the  open  polar  sea." 

"  Yes,  even  in  darkest  Prussia  the  American 
woman  '  counts  '  as  you  say.  If  man  makes  the 
opportunity,  opportunity  makes  the  woman." 

"  I  wish,"  said  Virginia,  "  that  my  brother 
Horace  could  learn  to  make  a  bow  like  that 
boy  with  the  tenor  voice." 

It 's  just  as  well,  don't  you  think,  that  our 
visit  to  Old  Poland  is  at  an  end  ?  To-morrow 
we  start  for  Southern  Germany. 


274 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "  TWO  IN  ITALY" 


ROMA  BEATA 

Letters  from  the  Eternal  City 
By  MAUD   HOWE 

With  Illustrations  from  Drawings  by  John  Elliott  and 
from  Photographs 


CHAP. 

I.  Looking  for  a  Home. 
II.  Cadenabbia  —  Woerishoven  —  Pfar- 
rer  Sebastian  Kneipp. 

III.  A  Visit  to  Queen  Margaret. 

IV.  A  Presentation  to  Leo  the  Thir 

teenth. 

V.  In  the  Abruzzi  Mountains. 
VI.  Scanno. 
VII.  Viareggio  —  Lucca  —  Return    to 

Rome. 

VIII.  Roman  Codgers  and  Solitaries. 
IX.  Black  Magic  and  White  —  Witch's 

Night. 
X.  Ischia. 

XI.  Old  and  New  Rome  —  Palestrina. 
XII.  The  Anno  Santo. 

XIII.  The  Queen's  Visit. 

XIV.  Strawberries  of  Nemi. 

XV.  The  King  is  Dead.    Long  Live  the 
King. 


It  has  in  it  far  more  of 
readableness  and  interest 
than  many  romances  of  the 
day.  A  more  entertaining 
and  really  enjoyable  work  of 
the  kind  cannot  be  recalled. 
— Philadelphia  Record. 

Sparkles  with  humor  and 
runs  over  with  unique  and  en 
tertaining  experiences  such 
as  could  not  possibly  fall  to 
the  lot  of  the  ordinary  tourist. 
A  dozen  illustrations,  from 
Mr.  Elliott's  drawings  and 
from  photographs,  add  a 
decorative  touch  to  this 


tempting  volume.  —  Dial, 
Chicago. 

As  the  wife  of  John  Elliott,  the  artist,  as  a  woman  of  letters, 
and  as  a  keen  observer  of  men  and  manners,  no  aspect  of  the 
Roman  kaleidoscope  escaped  her  notice,  and  for  the  pope  and 
peasant  her  comprehension  and  sympathies  were  alike  quick  and 
ready.  —  Boston  Herald. 

This  is  a  clever  book,  and  an  engaging  one.  The  author  has 
observed  Italians  and  Italian  life  with  an  intelligence  no  less  sym 
pathetic  than  acute.  By  temperament  as  well  as  by  training  she 
was  fitted  to  appreciate  the  glamour  of  Italy  —  that  embodied 
romance  of  nature,  art,  and  history.  In  these  sketches,  marked 
by  humor,  discrimination,  and  womanly  grace  and  gentleness,  she 
does  much  to  draw  the  reader  under  the  spell  which  she  herself  has 
felt  so  deeply.  —  New  York  Tribune. 

Octavo.     Cloth,  Gilt  Top,  in  Box,  $2.50  net 

LITTLE,   BROWN,  &   CO.,  Publishers 

BOSTON 


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Nf\\f          />      Jf\rif 

Uv    6  sail) 

DEC    8  1941 

I 

uUU       '     1QK1 

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5Jul'51lb 

LD  21-100m-7,'33 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


